From the Diary of a Damned Soul
by cariaudry
Summary: During his murder of Sebastian Verlac, Jonathan had recalled Valentine saying that once the Clave had been dismantled his mother, the other Jonathan, and Clarissa would be coming to live with them. When Valentine does defeat the Clave how will Clary, Jace, Jocelyn, the Lightwoods, and their Downworlder friends fare? Now that they're damned, what is their fate?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again, everyone! So this is just a short note reminding you all this is an _independent_ fiction. You don't need to read anything else I've written. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!**

Chapter One

**Clary**

The cellar really was no place to sleep, especially without pillows, sheets, or blankets. The house had been built in a time when wood stoves were used for heat and basements were used as cold storage; this left the cellar practically unsuitable for the living. It hadn't stopped Valentine from imprisoning his daughter there for the sorting out after the rebellion, though. Clary was trapped in the delirium of dehydration, her wrists crossed and bound above her head, her body, bare, but for the tank top and shorts, and her lips cracked and dried. She drew a shuddering breath and tried to force her mind to the present.

_Where are you?_

In a cellar…

_Why are you here?_

I don't know.

Clary strained to sift through her memories, trying to recall something, anything, of the path that had led her to being tied to the bare, stained mattress. _Who brought you here?_

Valentine.

_Valentine…Valentine, that lying, evil, traitorous, bastard. He did this, he put me here; he ruined _everything_!_ Unbidden, images swarmed up to Clary's mind, and piece by piece, the past fell into place.

When Clary had come to, she was lying in the sand, her wrists and ankles bound behind her back, a length of fabric stuffed in her mouth. She blinked away the dizziness from her landing in the lake and struggled to sit up. Through her blurry vision, Clary saw the beach stretch out before her to the shore of the lake. The water lapped lazily at the sand, brushing the boots of Valentine, who stood beside the shore, fiddling with someone before him.

Just the sight of Valentine brought on a wave of fury Clary had never before experienced. This was the man who had ruined her life. He had kidnapped her mother. Poisoned her brother. And, perhaps worst, had driven her almost insane with his terrible lies about Jace. Now, he stood before her, working away against everything that was still good in the world, and she couldn't even move to stop him.

_Someone will come, _she had thought recklessly. _Someone has to come to stop him. Jace went to find Valentine; he'll be here soon. Jace will come._

But it seemed Jace wasn't going to come, and this only worried Clary more. As she sat slouched in the sand, watching Valentine work, she began to wonder what might have stopped Jace. A dark, cruel part of her mind whispered it must have been Jonathan, and that Jace was dead.

_He's not, _she said firmly to herself. _Jace is alive, he's alive and he's coming for you and Valentine. He's the greatest shadowhunter alive, he just can't be dead._

Furious with herself, Clary focused on trying to stand, trying to move, trying to do anything that might help her stop Valentine. She twisted about to study the knot that was holding her wrists together, and saw that is was, instead, a string of glowing runes. She tried to tug her wrists apart, but the runes seemed to tighten and she felt a sharp burn as if they had sensed her trying to break free.

"You'll find your struggles quite impossible." During her fight, Clary hadn't noticed her father cross the beach and stand before her. When she looked up, Valentine was staring down at her, his face even, but his eyes glowing maliciously. "Those runes are quite effective, and fighting will only result in pain and more humiliation." Clary glared up at her father, unable to speak through the cloth in her mouth, but Valentine was amused. "I see you are angry, Clarissa, and I understand; you don't yet grasp my reasoning for doing what I'm about to do. You think I'm evil, but you'll see." When Clary continued to stare up at him, fury in every line of her body, he reached down and untied the cloth. "You may, of course, speak."

"You're a bastard!" Clary snarled, spitting sand out of her mouth and onto his boots. "This isn't over yet; the Clave is going to stop you. They won't let you enslave them, they'll fight back."

Valentine offered Clary a polite smile. "Let me enslave them? I do not need the Clave to allow me anything, Clarissa; I will do as I please, with the will of Angel behind me."

"The Angel won't help you either," she growled. "He won't stand aside and let you enslave his people."

"The Angel has no choice in the matter," sniffed Valentine, casting his gaze toward the lake. "I will summon him, and he will be bound by the runes of the summoning circle to obey me. I will ask him to strip all who do not drink from the Mortal Cup of their shadowhunter right. They will be reduced to Forsaken."

Clary felt bile rise up in her throat. "Just because they drink from the Cup doesn't mean they will serve you."

"They will swear an oath of obedience and bear whatever runes I choose to mark them with." This all seemed of little consequence to Valentine, just a small hiccup in his plan. "If they deny me, they will die."

"I won't drink from the Cup," said Clary firmly. "And neither will Jace or my mom; they hate you too-"

"Careful, Clarissa," said Valentine over her outburst, but she saw the amusement in his eyes flicker. "Jace, your mother, and yourself, are part of my family, and, as such, are mine to do with as I choose."

"Screw you," Clary said in a low voice.

"Now, now, Clarissa, I don't want there to be any animosity between us." Valentine knelt before her and he lifted her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You mother loved you, loved you more than she loved me or Jonathan." This was clearly irksome to Valentine, and Clary felt his fingers tighten on her chin. "And I have no intention of going on without her; you will do as I say, and your mother will love me again. We will be the family we should have been."

"She'll never forgive you," Clary denied, trying to shake her chin free. "She hates you because of what you did to Jonathan, and just because you have me doesn't she'll love you again. She might do what you say, but it'll be because of fear, not love. She won't love you-"

"Silence," he hissed, and Clary felt a tremor race up her father arm. "You have no idea what you're speaking of. I will make this world to my desire, and you will be here to see it all." He repositioned the gag and tightened it painfully. Clary thrashed about in his arms, but he took the hilt of his dagger and dug it into her back, on a pressure point on her spine. She whined through the gag in pain. "I do, however, need a bit of help."

There was a flash of light bouncing off the edge of a blade, and Valentine leveled the blade with Clary's cheek. She tried to pull away, instinctively fearing for her life, but Valentine took a firm grip on the back of her neck and held her still. The tip of the blade pressed against her cheek, and then moved down her face. Clary felt the pain distantly, aware it was only a shallow cut. Valentine flicked the blade away from her, holding up the red edge to the light. He smiled at her. "Thank you, Clarissa, for being a part of my victory."

Valentine rose up and left her for the beach. Clary didn't want to watch, she didn't think she could bear the idea of it all, but another part of her told her, _Watch, don't turn away, don't let him see you afraid. _

By the lake, Valentine was assembling the Mortal Instruments before him. She watched as he tapped the blade he'd used to cut her cheek and small droplets of her blood landed in the water and dissolved. Her then produced the Soul Sword and began stirring the water. She saw the water in the lake begin to glow from the point where the tip of the sword touched the water, and from that point, the water began to bubble furiously. The light from the lake grew brighter and brighter until Clary had to look away. She heard the sound of the Sword and Cup being cast into the depths, but couldn't turn back to see.

Suddenly, a sound like music filled the air; it wasn't exactly beautiful, but it wasn't horrible. It was haunting, like the song of a loon. Clary forced her eyes back toward Valentine and saw that he was standing in a circle of light, and, rising from the now perfectly still lake, was the Angel. Clary felt her mouth go dry as the golden wings opened, flapping quietly at her.

_Please, no, just go back to wherever you came from, please! _Clary thought desperately. _Don't help him. Don't give him what he wants._

The Angel, though, either didn't hear her or didn't care. Valentine was speaking to it, making grand gestures, and then pointing to himself. The Angel seemed unconcerned with whatever Valentine was saying, and Clary hoped maybe the Angel was going to deny him, but then he blinked and bowed his head. The runes around Valentine glowed brighter and brighter, the light consuming Valentine, and Clary felt a force as a physical thing throw her back into the sand where she rolled over and over again, coming to a stop against a tree.

There was a point where Clary knew and saw nothing; her mind was blank, and all she saw was blackness. But it seemed that too soon she was being thrown back into her body, and the pain came back with it. She felt tears prick her eyes as she assessed the damage done to her, but a hand suddenly wound itself in her hair.

"Ah, Clarissa, I'm glad to see you're alive and well after that little display," Valentine said, and pulled her up to her knees. He was smiling down at her, the runes on his arms glowing with a fierce light, and when she raised her eyes up to his, they sparkled. "I was worried you might have died; then how would I know if the Angel granted my request?"

Clary furrowed her brow, but when Valentine produced the Mortal Cup, she panicked. Valentine tore the gag from her mouth and she almost at once began yelling a stream of curses. "Don't, no, don't! Get that thing away from me; I won't drink from it!"

"Clarissa, please, stop making a scene," Valentine sighed, gripping her chin tighter than usual. "Now, open your mouth and drink from the Cup. It will save, you, Clarissa."

Clary put up as much a fight as she could, but her wrists and legs bound were a great deterrent, and Valentine seemed possessed of some unearthly energy and strength. On her knees, Clary didn't have any way of fighting off her father, and when she felt the metal of it up against her lips, she threw herself about as much as she could. It burned, the Cup burned as if it had been touched by the wrath of the Angel, and Clary felt the tears she had been fighting back stream down her cheeks. The water inside the cup burned as well, and it trickled down her throat and into her stomach where it set her insides on fire. Valentine tossed Clary aside after he was sure she had swallowed the cup full and she landed in the sand, withering in pain while she felt her blood turn to fire. Clary moaned and tried to pull herself up onto her hands and knees to retch, but she didn't have even the strength for that. Clary was left collapsed on the beach, gasping for breath while Valentine watched her pitilessly.

"You are weaker than I thought," Valentine observed while Clary wriggled about. "But, perhaps this is the work of the Angel, burning the weakness from your veins? Regardless, it will be good for you, Clarissa."

While Valentine began gathering up his things and loading them onto a horse Clary managed to roll onto her back and stare up at the sky while her blood boiled. _Just wait for the pain to pass, wait and don't let him know how much it hurts. That's what Jace would do…_

_Jace._ It was that thought that almost jerked her out of her searing body. He hadn't come in time, but that didn't mean he wasn't on his way now. That didn't mean he was hurt. Her heart ached with just the thought of him, and she wondered fearfully what might have become of him. _Jace needs to know the truth about us; he needs to know he's not my brother. _

After what seemed like an eternity of pain, Clary could feel her heart beat gradually dropping and her blood wasn't pounding through her body. She could feel her limbs again and she rubbed her fingers along her arms and backs of her legs; she was covered in sweat and sand, but she wasn't in mind-numbing pain anymore.

Her relief was short lived, though, because she felt the cold hands of Valentine grab her by her shoulders and pull her up. "You're a mess, Clarissa," he said, smiling grimly down at her. "We'll have to fix you up once we settle things down in Alicante; we'll be heading that way soon enough."

"The shadowhunters won't give in-"

"Be quiet," he said, and Clary felt him haul her up to her feet. She couldn't put weight on them and she toppled forward, but Valentine caught her up and lifted her into his arms, almost like he cared about her. "You will find that your silence is much more rewarding."

"I don't need to be rewarded!" Clary spat, and she tried to free herself from Valentine.

"Perhaps you will feel differently when your brother arrives," was all Valentine said.

He carried Clary over to his horse and heaved her up into the saddle. Before Clary had time to escape, Valentine drew a length of rope and lashed her to the saddle. He checked the knots he'd tied and grinned up at her before mounting the horse himself and settling behind her. Clary felt Valentine's presence like an overbearing shadow, and she leaned as far forward as she could before the saddle cut into her belly.

"I don't know where you think you're going," Valentine said evenly, unimpressed by her attempts. "There's nowhere for you to run, and no one you could run to. This world, your world, is mine."

"She's a bit feisty," said a voice from behind them. Both Clary and Valentine turned in the saddle, and saw Jonathan astride a horse, and tied behind him, Jace. "I should have warned you about that, Father."

"Jace!" Clary croaked, but Valentine made a sharp silencing gesture and Clary fell quiet.

"Jonathan," he said coolly, "I'm glad to see you haven't come to any harm, and you have Jace with you." He smiled at his son, and then turned his eyes on Jace, who was glaring up at Valentine with more anger than Clary thought possible. "I'm pleased to see you found reason, Jace; it would have been a sore loss to me if you had died."

"What have you done?" Jace demanded, his eyes on Clary.

"What I set out to do," he replied simply. "Jonathan, we're going back to Alicante to meet the Clave and offer them their salvation. Keep an eye on Jace."

Before Clary had much opportunity to speak to Jace, to even let him know how much she loved him, her father turned their horse about and headed for the city. Behind them, Clary could see Jonathan riding, a sick smirk on his face, and Jace, his hands bound and then tied to the saddle, trailing behind him looking mutinous. From her peeking glance, she saw that Jace seemed mostly unharmed, though he was limping and there was a blossoming star of blood on his right side by his ribs.

It seemed to take forever before they reached Brocelind Plain. They passed over a hill that sloped down onto the plain, and before them was the battle-or what would have been a battle. Many of the shadowhunters had been reduced to kneeling, retching figures, their bodies bent in pain, and the Downworlders around them were in a panic. Demons were closing in on all sides, but Valentine raised his sword and they seemed to fall back.

Clary last memories were vague and haunting. Her father padded down the hill and entered the fray, calling out orders. She saw familiar faces here and there, but not Luke or her mother. She heard a frantic cry and saw Isabelle Lightwood emerging from the crowd, her eyes pinioned on Jace. Valentine didn't stop Isabelle from throwing herself against Jace and sobbing against his chest, but just moved on. Clary saw Jonathan turn around to snarl at them, but her attention was torn away by someone else's voice.

"_Clary_!" It was Jocelyn, and she was pushing people aside to break through the crowd and reach her daughter. "_Clary!_"

Clary strained against the ropes that bound her but it was her father's hands that contracted on her wrists. Jocelyn grabbed the horse's reins and pulled it to a halt. Her pale face turned from Clary and moved slowly up to Valentine who was staring down at her with the strangest look.

"Mom…" Clary whispered, but it didn't help, nothing would, because at that moment the crowd fell to shreds and madness broke out all about them…

"_Mom!_" Clary cried, straining against the ropes holding her to the bed. She tossed and turned viciously, trying to break any hold she could, but Clary was bound too tightly. "Mom-someone-help me."

The whispered plea went completely unnoticed, though. Locked in the basement of a house in Alicante, tied to a bed, and left in the dark, her desperation was met with nothing but the cold and the loneliness.

* * *

_**Jocelyn**_

"Where's my daughter?"

Valentine frowned a little, but he didn't let any of his annoyance show as he faced Jocelyn. "I wanted to keep her safe, Jocelyn, just long enough to settle any disputes that might arise during my seizure of the Clave. You must agree that there are some who want to see me, and by extension, anyone I love, harmed."

Jocelyn turned her gaze away from Valentine. "I want my daughter," she whispered. "I want Clary."

"You can have her as soon as everything is set back to rights," Valentine promised gently. "I swear on the Angel, Jocelyn, I'm not trying to distress you; I've tucked Clary away somewhere safe."

"Can I see her then?" Jocelyn asked.

"I'd rather you wait," said Valentine. "She is a little unreasonable at the moment, and I don't want her overexcited. I think it is mostly an after effect of drinking from the Cup."

Jocelyn turned her eyes back on Valentine, and she hoped there was enough force in them to make him cringe. "You made our daughter drink from your Cup?" She sounded scandalized.

Valentine felt a small prickling of panic; this was not how their reunion was supposed to happen. Jocelyn was supposed to be in love with him, she was supposed to be overjoyed that he had returned with her son and daughter in tow. "I didn't have a choice, Jocelyn, as our daughter has a nasty temper and no manners at all. You must agree that a child cannot simply go unchecked and unwatched?"

"She's only sixteen!" Jocelyn cried, and she rose to her feet, looking furious. "Clary is just a little girl, barely an adult, and you want to raise her like-like your father raised you?"

Valentine jumped to his feet and rushed to Jocelyn's side, but she pulled away from him. Jocelyn felt a tremor race up her spine as soon as Valentine drew near and her stomach flipped painfully. It had been this way since Valentine had taken her from Brocelind Plane.

When she had seen him ride up in the middle of the battle, Clary seated before him like some used rag doll, she'd thrown caution to the wind and rushed to her daughter. Valentine had looked down on her with a burning hunger in his gaze, but when she stared up at him in challenge he just swung himself off the hose and landed by her side. She was still grasping Clary's hand tightly, waiting for Valentine to make his first move.

"Jocelyn, I brought you Clarissa," he had said, as if this somehow made everything else he had done okay. Jocelyn cringed away from him, but she wouldn't leave her daughter. When she didn't respond, Valentine said, "Why don't you join her on the horse while I settle things here?"

Beneath her fingers, Jocelyn could feel Clary shaking, whether in anger or fear, she didn't know, and she took a step away and brushed against the horse. Valentine smiled politely and then helped her up onto the horse. Jocelyn wrapped both her arms around Clary, kissing her head protectively. Valentine's eyes had skimmed over them, like he were assessing a particularly valuable item, and then he turned away to address his people.

Days later, Jocelyn couldn't bear being around Valentine. He would always look at her with those empty, hungry eyes, as if trying to discern what was on her mind. They had had few talks since Valentine had taken her back to the house he had claimed as his own. She had refused point-blank to share a room with him, and so Valentine had grudgingly set her up in the second largest room, but he visited every day, hoping to coax her back into his arms. She had adamantly rejected him, demanding her daughter, but Valentine had always said no. She was starting to suspect that Valentine's patience would wear thin soon; he had never been very patient, even with her.

"My father raised me to be a warrior, something I thought you would want in both your children," said Valentine reasonably.

"My children?" Jocelyn gasped. "My _children_? You mean Clary and Jonathan, the boy you turned into a monster before he was even born? How dare you talk about him after what you did! You stole my son from me, and now you're keeping my daughter a prisoner-"

"Clarissa is not a prisoner," said Valentine sharply. "I have told you that countless time, Jocelyn. As for Jonathan, I have apologized again and again. I know what I did to him was wrong, and I've regretted it every day since you left me, but if you'll let me, I'll make it up to you."

"That's not possible," Jocelyn said coldly. "You practically murdered my little boy. You can't just give me another son to take his place."

Something in Valentine's eyes flickered but it was gone in a moment. "If you'll give me a chance to make amends, Jocelyn, I will. Let me give you back the family you wanted."

"Give me back my daughter," she replied simply. "I want Clary."

"I can't do that right now." Valentine saw how even Jocelyn's face was, how she was unmoved by his pleas, and it woke in him a bit of annoyance. Who was she to think she could just turn her back on him after he had gone to the ends of the world for her? "Jocelyn, I want you to love me again, and out of respect for what we had before, I have not marked you with any of my runes. But, to offer you everything I have and everything I can give and have you throw in aside for nothing but your daughter, I cannot abide."

"Valentine-" Jocelyn began, but his eyes grew cold and silenced her.

"If your love for Clarissa is so much greater than your love for a family, I'll simply take her out of the picture."

"No!" Jocelyn spun around and grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket desperately. "Don't hurt her!"

Valentine stared down at her hand grasping at his sleeve. "I don't want to hurt her, and I don't want to hurt you, but I don't think it's all that _healthy_ for you to obsess and worry about her when I promised you her safety." He saw her uncertainly and said more harshly, "You have a family to look after."

Jocelyn knew that this was the end of her small battle against Valentine. He had given her a few days to recover and accept his sovereignty, and now he was calling her out. She could challenge him, but he had her daughter, and as long as he held Clary's life over Jocelyn's head, she couldn't fight back. What scared her just a little was how deluded Valentine seemed; he was obsessed with her, and had convinced himself that if she wasn't the happy mother and loving wife she had been before, Clary was to blame.

"I-I know that," Jocelyn said softly, lowering her eyes and trying to swallow her pride and disgust. She had to think fast to appease his temper. "I'm just so…so worried about Clary, and so sad over Jonathan. Everything has gone to hell and I just want my family." She lifted her big eyes up at Valentine, hoping to placate whatever madness had consumed him.

It worked, and Valentine reached down and gathered Jocelyn up in his arms. He was trembling as he held her and carefully, as if unsure Jocelyn was going to bite him, he used two fingers and lifted her chin up so her lips were raised to his. "I'll give you your family back, Jocelyn, I'll give you everything; you just need to let me." Then he kissed her firmly on the lips.

That evening, Valentine and Jocelyn ate dinner alone, and afterward, he led her upstairs to the master bedroom. Jocelyn said everything Valentine wanted to hear, she praised his bravery, she whispered of her lonely years in New York since she left him, she shared her pain over losing her son. Valentine had been sympathetic, endearing, comforting.

"As soon as tomorrow dawns I'll set to making it all right," Valentine had promised. "Now, come to bed with me; it's been too long since I've slept by your side."

Jocelyn blanched at the idea of sharing a bed with Valentine, but she couldn't forget how quickly he could turn on her. Carefully, she slipped under the covers and waited until Valentine joined her. He saw the way she clutched the blankets about her, how she looked just slightly uncertain. He smiled blandly at her and drew her against his side; they had much recovering to do before he could possibly seduce her into his arms and bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_**Jace**_

"How long can he keep us down here?" Isabelle asked, pacing the length of the cell from wall to wall. "It's been four days!"

"Isabelle, please, be quiet a moment," said Maryse, who was seated on the wooden bench that ran along three of the walls. "I'm trying to think."

"Think about what?" Isabelle shot back, looking mutinously over at her mother. "We're trapped in a cell in the Gard, waiting for Valentine to call us up and force us to drink from his Cup. It's not like we're planning some masterful escape."

"Maybe I'm just trying to plan the best way to keep my children safe!" she snapped back, and Isabelle's face went scarlet. Myrse went back to her furtive planning, Robert watching her with sad eyes.

"Izzy, let you mother think," Jace said, and drew Isabelle over to the opposite wall where he and Alec were resting. "She's not really used to…to this." He gestured around the miserable cell. Maryse, who had been head of the New York Institute, was clearly not accustomed to being imprisoned. Then again, he, Jace, was not used to being a captive either.

"I don't know what she thinks she's going to accomplish," Isabelle muttered, but she cast another long look at her mother, frantically running her hands through her hair and shaking her head hopelessly, and felt a stab of pity. "You heard what those other prisoners were saying; Valentine's been taking shadowhunters back up into the city and he only lets them drink from the Cup if they will bear his loyalty and obedience runes. There's no way out of it now."

Jace pressed his lips together. "He might have different plans for us, since your parents were part of his Circle, and because I'm his so-" Jace cut off before he said that dreadful word that had been haunting him for months. _You're not his son, you're a Lightwood. _"Your mom is just trying to plan for anything Valentine might have in mind for us."

Alec, seated beside Jace, stirred and spoke softly so his parents wouldn't hear him. "What do you think is going to happen to us, Jace? I mean, you lived with him for ten years, what do you think he's got in mind?"

"No clue," Jace shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that Alec was right: Valentine _had_ raised him. "He's got to consolidate his power fast, order the Clave, and divvy out positions to his followers. There is a lot of work that has to get done in a short amount of time, and he might not have made any plans for us. I mean, we're just _one _family."

Alec still seemed concerned. "Yeah, but you're, well, Jace, you're practically his son. He sent Jonathan after you, didn't he? Valentine seemed very interested in you."

Jace looked away. "Well, he doesn't have to be interested now, does he? He's got his half-demon son, his half-angel daughter, and his wife." Jace sounded a little bitter at the mention of a daughter, but his face remained removed.

"You're half-angel, too," Alec pointed out and his gaze swept over Jace. "He might want you, too, just so he can have all the powerful shadowhunters with him."

Jace kept his face turned away from Alec because he didn't want his brother seeing the swift look of worry that crossed his eyes. Part of him was very scared that Valentine would go looking for him, and that in his hunt, he might hurt Jace's family. "Well, we'll find out eventually. Like Isabelle said, there's no way out now."

Isabelle plopped down before her brothers and she look determined. "If Valentine tries anything with you, Jace, we'll stop him, won't we, Alec?"

Jace smiled at Isabelle's anger. "Thanks, Izzy, but I don't know if you're in the position to be fighting my battles, especially against Valentine."

"You're my brother," Isabelle said firmly. "I've already lost one, and I won't lose another, not even if it means fighting Valentine. We'll stand together."

Jace relaxed against the cold wall, taking a little comfort in his family. He hadn't known how much Isabelle cared about him, and how much he cared for her, up until he felt Isabelle's arms around him, pressing her shaking body against his battered one the night Valentine made his pact with the Angel. He couldn't move as his hands had been tied up to the horse, but he leaned against her anyway trying to relax.

Isabelle had begun frantically sawing at the ropes bonding him to the horse, and Jonathan snapped around, making a violent shooing gesture at Isabelle. Jace turned to see what Valentine was doing, but he was too busy, speaking in a low, hushed voice to Jocelyn. Isabelle batted Jonathan away, but he swung around and struck her across the face. Isabelle fell into the muck and blood of the field, and Jace, in a panic, began tugging fitfully on the rope to stop Jonathan hurting his sister.

Jonathan smirked at Jace and jerked the rope holding Jace so he toppled forward into the mud. By the time Jace got his feet, Jonathan was advancing on Isabelle, but Alec suddenly emerged, freed Jace, and the two managed to overpower Jonathan and get Isabelle out of Jonathan's reach. It was a short lived victory, though, since Valentine had Maryse and Robert at the point of his sword. They had surrendered quickly, and, for his pains, Jonathan punched both Jace and Alec solidly in their sides.

Afterward, there was much confusion, but Valentine's demons and loyal shadowhunters rounded up the armies. They were led away, forced at sword point back into the city and up to the Gard, where they were forced into cells. Four days later, the Lightwoods hadn't heard word yet from Valentine, but they knew their own day of reckoning was coming shortly.

A sudden scream of terror echoed down the hall outside their prison cell. Jace jumped by up by instinct, Alec and Isabelle a beat after him. On the other side of the cell, Maryse and Robert looked up, their eyes sharpened like razors. Cautiously, Jace approached the door and peeked through the small, barred window set in the stone. At first, he saw only the stone hall, dotted here and there with other cell doors and torches. Then, from the darkness at the end of the hall, two figures appeared, shadowhunters from the marks on their arms, and between, walked three pale-faced people.

Jace recognized the delicate face and dark eyes of Aline Penhallow, flanked by Jai and Patrick. They were being taken to meet their fate at Valentine's feet. Aline looked ill, like she was about to be physically sick. Her eyes darted frantically around the hall, as if trying to find someone or something that might save her from Valentine. As they drew level with the Lightwoods' cell, Aline's eyes found Jace's face, and he saw fear cloud up her gaze and then she and her parents were marched away.

"It was the Penhallows," Jace said hollowly. "They were being taken to meet Valentine and take their oaths."

Isabelle and Alec shared a panicked look, but Maryse gasped. "Jai and Patrick were being kept only ten cells down from here. They'll be to us by tomorrow."

Jace swallowed loudly and went back to his place on the bench between Alec and Isabelle. Robert, who was still in shock from the death of Max, stared up at the three children across from him, and he found himself confused at the sight of Jace sitting between his two children. Part of him wondered for the first time who this boy really was; they had taken Jace in when he was ten, but seven years suddenly didn't seem like enough time to know Jace.

The family stayed like this for the rest of the night. Around one in the morning, Isabelle finally succumbed to sleep, and she curled up, using Jace's lap as a pillow. Alec didn't sleep, but he seemed to lean against Jace, as if drawing strength from the presence of his brother and parabatai. Jace, for his part, took great comfort in the feeling of his siblings.

Through the night and into the morning, more and more groups of shadowhunters were taken down the hall, not to return. It seemed that there was no way out, no escape, and it began to feel like a weight resting on the Lightwoods. When a patch of daylight shone through the small window level with the ground in their cell, Alec released an audible sigh. They waited, though they didn't know what for.

A loud grinding told them all that their time had come. Maryse and Robert rose, ready to defend their children, and Isabelle stood before Jace, determined to keep her promise to protect him. The door creaked loudly and they all tensed.

"You don't need to rise for us," drawled a voice that Jace knew only too well.

"Valentine," Maryse said, lifting her chin, ready for what he had to say. "I'm surprised you would come to see us personally, and not just wait till we were brought before you."

Valentine smiled coolly and then gestured for Jonathan to come in. There was a tense moment between all present while Jonathan smiled pleasantly around, and then Isabelle threw herself at Jonathan, snarling like a lion.

"You, you cowardly, pathetic dic-"

"Isabelle!" Alec yelled, and grabbed her, swinging her around.

But Valentine just laughed and Jonathan smiled serenely. "We're not offended. Anyway, Maryse, you asked why we're here. You will find it was my custom to visit all my former Circle members, and offer them my blessing. You and Robert were follows of mine once-"

"Until you murdered our son!" Robert roared.

"A tragedy," demurred Valentine. "But no reason for you to die; it would hardly serve the boy's memory if you were to perish. I offer you a future."

"We don't want your future," Maryse spat.

"Then I'm going to offer you the alternative," shrugged Valentine, his eyes dark but sure. "You will drink from the Cup, and so be saved from becoming a Forsaken, but you will then be stripped of your runes."

Robert's eyes widened. "_That's_ the alternative?"

"It is a privilege I have extended to my Circle members. If you will not follow me, you will not be made a Forsaken, simply a human slave." Valentine's eyes roved over to Jace, who was staring at him in horror. "The choice is yours."

"I won't pander to you," Robert growled. "I would rather be dead."

"I won't kill you," Valentine said firmly. "I am not interested in spilling more shadowhunter blood. The choice as I've given it is yours. Now, I find I must have a quick discussion with Jace."

Jace had been expecting this, and his stomach did a minor flip when both Valentine and Jonathan's eyes turned on him. "I don't think I'm that interested in talking with you."

"Unfortunately, Jace, it's not your call to make," answered Valentine. "When you go to drink from the Cup, you will not return with the Lightwoods. I have other plans for you."

"I'm staying with my family," Jace replied swiftly.

"The Lightwoods are not your family," Valentine answered, smiling just a little. "In fact, in a few days, the name Lightwood will cease to exist. Robert and Maryse will no longer be members of the Clave, and Isabelle and Alec will go to another family. You, however, will come with me."

Jace blinked and shared a look between the Lightwoods, and he saw that though Myrse and Robert had paled at Valentine's statement, they seemed resigned to their fate. "If Alec and Isabelle are going to be adopted, I'm going with them. You can't split us up, anyway, I'm Alec's parabatai."

Valentine's eyes sparkled maliciously and he and Jonathan shared a swift victorious look. "I meant to discuss that business with you, Jace."

"There's nothing to discuss," Jace said firmly, and he automatically listed toward Alec. "Since I was eleven, Alec and I have been parabatai; it was witnessed by the Clave and we bear the runes."

"I'm aware," said Valentine blankly, "but the word of the previous Clave bears little consequence here. Now, you must understand why we have a problem, Jace?" When Jace stared defiantly back, Valentine only raised an eyebrow. "Your parabatai is an _undesirable _member of the Clave given his…orientation."

Alec couldn't help but blush and he dropped his eyes shamefully; across from him, Robert smiled encouragingly at his son. Jace, though, simply shrugged it off. "I don't care that Alec is gay, he's still my parabatai."

"You don't care, but I do," Valentine answered. "I won't have my son paired to some-"

"I'm not your son!" Jace snarled, and he rose to his feet, his face flushing angrily for Alec. "I'm not your son, I'm not going with you, and Alec Lightwood is my parabatai."

Alec felt his jaw hanging open just a little at Jace's outburst; he saw that Valentine, too, seemed shocked. Maybe he thought Jace would fall in line now that he had won, maybe no one had ever spoken to him like that, or maybe he was just so used to an obedient son that one who yelled back at him was unheard of. Whatever the reason, Valentine couldn't voice his surprise.

"Well, there you have it, Valentine," said Maryse, standing and drawing his attention away from her children. "None of us are going to concede to you; you might as well go now."

"I'm not through here, Maryse," Valentine said coldly, and his eyes roved back to Jace. There was an odd look in his eye, some strange hunger that wanted to consume Jace. Instinctively, Jace tensed, ready for a fight. "You're choice about coming with me is already made, Jace. However, because you are my son, and because I don't wish there to be any hostility between us, I'm going to make you an offer."

"I don't want to hear it," Jace answered, turning away.

"Trust me, Jace, you do, because it could mean the difference between life and death for your little parabatai." Valentine waited for Jace to answer, but he didn't, so Valentine continued. "Regardless of what you feel or want, I will not allow you and Alec to be parabatai. Now, as I'm sure you're aware, there are a few ways to go about severing the bond."

Jace felt a cold sweat break out on his hands and he swallowed loudly, waiting for his fate to fall. "I won't let you do this."

"Yes, you will," snorted Valentine, drawing nearer to Jace. "You can voluntarily allow me to sever the connection and strip you and Alec of the rune that binds you, or, I can execute him, and the bond is broken because he is dead. It's your choice, really, but I think, if you're as loyal and true to your family as you claim, you will not allow Alec to die."

Jace felt his stomach drop out, and beside him, he felt Alec go cold. _He can't, he won't…the amount of pain it would cause to sever our bond, not to mention the risk of harming us psychologically, is too great. _

"Jace, I'm going to need an answer," Valentine said, but his voice was distant.

Frantically, Jace was going through every possible route of escape. He couldn't refuse Valentine point-blank, because then he would kill Alec. But, he couldn't agree, because he and Alec would be severed. There had to be some middle ground, some way of convincing Valentine that he and Alec should remain parabatai; after all, it never boded well for the two who shared the bond if they were split. Often times, to harm one was to harm the other, and severing that link suddenly could drive one of them mad; they needed to be bonded.

"You could hurt us," Jace warned carefully, shooting a look to Alec, whose face was still bowed. "If you sever the connection, I mean. It could make us sick, or even drive us mad; once two are bonded, we're meant to live that way."

"Bonded?" Valentine's lips quirked up. "Yes, I know, and I don't plan on risking your sanity or health for it either. I already have another parabatai in mind; one I have hand-picked and will be worthy of you."

Jace paled. "What about Alec?"

"I don't care about Alec. I would just as happily see him dead as alive; his kind doesn't belong in the Clave. The only thing that can keep him alive now is you."

"Who-who would I be bonded to?" _How can you ask that? How can you even consider letting Valentine separate you and Alec? _"If I agreed to it, who did you pick to be my parabatai?" For a horrifying moment, Jace thought he was going to say Clary's name, and he felt another wave of sickness. Parabatai couldn't be lovers, and now that he knew he and Clary weren't siblings, she was all he really wanted.

"Jonathan," he answered simply.

"No." Jace's eyes widened and he felt Alec stir, sitting up and staring daggers at the boy who had killed his brother. "No. _No_! I won't be paired with that _thing_ you call a son, not after what he did to my family. You can split Alec and me up, but I won't be bonded to him."

"It's not your decision to make, Jace," Valentine said curtly. "Your decision is whether or not Alec lives, and you may make it now."

He didn't know it, but Jace had moved back until he was pressed up against Alec. It was natural for him, almost like breathing, to look to his parabatai for support. Somehow, feeling Alec beside him, feeling the heat his body gave off and hearing the beating of his heart, was like a balm on Jace's nerves. Then, the thought of losing all of that hit him, and it almost doubled him over.

"Kill me," Alec said when Jace couldn't answer.

"What?" Valentine asked politely at the same time Isabelle cried his name.

"Kill me, right now," Alec repeated. "I'd rather die bound to Jace and live without him. Besides," and here he lowered his voice, "if I die still bound to Jace, you won't be able to completely break the link. You can't strip him of the rune, just add a new one."

Valentine's eyes narrowed and Jonathan's lips curled up. "If you'd prefer it that way, Alexander, I think we can certainly oblige you. Jonathan, would you mind terribly?"

"Always a pleasure." And, before Jace could move in his defense, before Alec really had time to think of what he had said, Jonathan had lunged at him, catching him by surprise and throwing him against the wall of the cell.

Isabelle screamed, jumping to her feet, and Maryse, throwing aside any dignity began pleading with Valentine to spare her children. Jonathan pinned Alec against the wall and twisted his arm till the other boy gasped in pain. Jace was up on his feet, but he was frozen as a battle took place inside him. Alec _wanted _to die, really wanted it, and who was Jace to deny him his final wish? He could feel it, could feel Alec's passion to die as Jace's parabatai and his fear to live as just a shadowhunter. Jace knew he would rather it be that way too; he wanted to be Alec's parabatai until he died. But, standing there, watching while Jonathan took sick pleasure in Alec's withering, moaning body was tearing him apart.

"Stop it, please, for the love of the Angel, _stop_!" Isabelle cried. "Alec, just let it go! You don't need to die for this."

"Valentine, make him stop," Maryse pleaded. "He's just a boy and he doesn't know what he wants. Please, spare him!"

Valentine's eyes moved over to Jace, who was just standing there, looking like a rabbit in the eyes of a predator. He couldn't move, but every part of him was screaming for it. "Jace, you can end this," Valentine reminded.

"Think it's glorious, do you?" Jonathan spat in Alec's ear, leaning his elbow into Alec's spine. "Think dying like this will make you something other than a filthy coward? It won't. You're going to die like an animal. And when it's over, when you're body is fed to the hounds, Jace is still going to be mine." Alec squirmed and tried to break his hold. "When Jace is _my_ parabatai, things will be different. You couldn't keep him in line, but I will. I'll be a _good _older brother, the one he should have had-not some freak like you. While you die, think of that; think of Jace being my little brother."

Alec felt Jonathan cut off his air with his forearm, and he knew he was going to die now. He tried to wriggle a little, it was just the natural instinct to survive, but he knew he had to die. It was the last thing he could do to help Jace, to help his family. The last thing he could do to fight Valentine. Darkness clouded over his vision and he felt his head inflating like a balloon.

"Wait, no!" Jace had turned to Valentine, and he worked his voice around his pride. "Don't kill him-please. I'll do it; I'll let you strip my runes and I'll-" _This is the only choice, this is the only way to save him; just swallow your pride and give Valentine what he wants. _"-I'll be Jonathan's parabatai."

"No!" Alec rasped as Jonathan pushed down on his windpipe. "Jace, _don't_…"

"I'll do it," said Jace again this time with more force. Valentine continued to smile at him and he felt his heart beat faster, panicked. "What do you want me to say? I'll do it, I'll be Jonathan's parabatai instead; listen to me!"

"I am listening, Jace, but you must understand why I have trouble trusting you after your recent betrayal," Valentine said calmly.

"I'll swear it to you," Jace said as Alec's face turned purple. "Is that what you want? I swear on the Angel I'll let you strip my rune and I'll be Jonathan's parabatai!"

Valentine tipped his head. "Jonathan, please stop."

Jonathan released his hold on Alec regretfully and Alec slumped down the wall, gasping for breath. He rested his head against the wall, taking deep breaths, and slowly, his eyes moved to Jace, who was staring at him with a burning look. "You can't, Jace…"

"I'm sorry, Alec," said Jace firmly, "but I can't let Valentine do this. I don't want to be responsible for the death of my other brother."

"Noble sentiment," purred Valentine, drawing up behind Jace and laying a hand on his shoulder. "I'm very happy you've decided to be mature and reasonable about all of this, Jace. I know it can sometimes be hard to lose people."

"You don't know anything about losing people," Jace spat at him, turning about to face him. "You have everything you ever wanted, don't you? You have your wife back and the Clave and all your pathetic little followers. And I'll go with you, but you don't get me."

"I think you'll find you're mistaken," said Valentine, and his voice was eerily soft. "I don't have everything I want yet, but you're going to help me with that, Jace." Valentine held Jace's gaze for a moment, and Jace had the distinct impression that he was evaluating him, sizing him up for something, and he knew he didn't like the feeling. "Tomorrow, when the Lightwoods are taken to drink from the Cup and be marked, we will remove the rune, and you will stay with me afterward. As for Isabelle and Alec, they will be placed in a new home."

"I'm eighteen," Alec rasped from his place on the floor. Valentine flicked his eyes over the boy, politely confused. "I'm eighteen, I'm an adult; Isabelle can come and live with me."

"Live where?" snorted Jonathan. "It's not like you've got a house."

"Jonathan," Valentine warned. "While it's true you are eighteen, Alexander, I'm going to be making a few changes to the Law, namely, that a shadowhunter stops training and comes of age when they're twenty-one. Until that time, you will need to be placed in a foster home."

"Twenty-one?" Isabelle demanded. She would have been eighteen in a matter of months, so adoption seemed almost pointless to her.

"I've found that the education system is poor and needs fixing, and since I can't send all the active shadowhunters back to school, I will change the Law for the most recent generation. Hopefully, but the time you are twenty-one, you'll be a proper shadowhunter."

"Isabelle _is_ a proper shadowhunter," Jace whispered.

"Not the way I see it," Valentine shrugged. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Jonathan and I have business to attend to. Until tomorrow then."

Valentine left but Jonathan lingered, smirking all over at Alec, who looked ill and Isabelle who was in outrage. As he passed by Jace he paused and gripped his left arm, the arm that bore the parabatai rune. He squeezed until Jace gasped. "See you tomorrow, _little brother_."

With those last words, Jonathan and Valentine left, closing the door softly, the lock clicking into place. Jace stared after them though they were gone, and he felt as if when they had left, they had taken his breath with him. After almost a minute of silence, Jace gasped and fell back against the wall, shaking, and sagged to the bench. His eyes were empty and unseeing, and though he knew there were others watching him, he couldn't bring himself to care.

_I can't believe I did this, I can't believe I _agreed_ to do this. He's going to take my family away, my brother…_Jace shuddered and, and, unable to take the reality facing him, drew his knees up and, rested his forehead against his knees, and wrapped his arms about his legs.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

_**Jocelyn**_

Bright morning light struck Jocelyn's face, but she rolled over, unwilling to greet the day. She drew the blankets up to cover her face and groaned when she remembered where the blankets came from. Jocelyn peeked over the frilly edge, surveying the room around her, scared of seeing Valentine there.

_He's not there, check behind you, careful…don't let him know you're awake!_ Jocelyn stretched out her hand, feeling behind her, but there was nothing. _He's gone, _she thought with relief.

It had only been a day since she and Valentine has reconciled, but it had seemed a waking nightmare. When she had woken from the first night in his bed, the early morning light glancing off his pale blond hair and she felt a deep sense of confusion. Part of her, distantly, had begun to dream of another man, a man with dark, curling hair, sometimes unkempt scruff, and a pair of bright eyes behind thoughtful glasses. She had wondered what it might be like to begin again with that man who loved her for all her light and all her dark.

_Luke_…It had been too painful and Jocelyn had cringed away from it.

Stretching, she sat up and glanced around and tossed the blankets aside. The room she and Valentine shared was spacious and richly furnished, with its own hand molded hearth surrounded by a small collection of chairs and a couch, walls covered in bookshelves, many thick rugs, and a private bath. Jocelyn swung her legs around and her toes grazed the wooden floor. Jocelyn felt oddly empty, staring around the vast apartments and seeing no one and nothing that brought her joy.

_Where's he put Clary? _she wondered, and it brought such a sharp jolt of pain and of fear that Jocelyn was almost doubled over. _I just want my daughter, I just want Clary._

"Clary," she whispered softly, and her voice echoed around the room.

She rose and dug around the room for clothes. Valentine had explained that he wanted their lives to pick up where they left off, and he had financed that life for the last ten years. Jocelyn, who was fond of jeans and tee shirts, suddenly found closets full of designer dresses, pants, and blouses. She was uncomfortable in them all, and had taken to wandering around their house in her bed clothes.

She passed out of the room and into the hall, considering the many rooms before her. She wondered what Valentine had planned for all those other bedrooms. Surely Jonathan only needed one room? And if he brought Clary in, there were still at least two spare bedrooms. She shook her head tiredly and crept down the stairs and into the living room, also empty, but ready for guests with a sitting area, a bay window, many book cases, a chess table, and an old-fashioned radio. Jocelyn frowned and went to the kitchen.

Like most homes in Idris, the antique feel didn't extend to the kitchen. It took Jocelyn maybe five minutes to have eggs in a frying pan. As she cooked, she thought back to all the times she had made breakfast for Clary, and she had that fleeting vision of her and Clary in _this _kitchen, cooking together, but she pushed that thought away. If Clary were here, Valentine would be training her, and that alone would be a nightmare. Still, Jocelyn longed to be a normal mother again.

"You're up late," said a voice behind her.

Jocelyn spun around, her breath hitching in her throat. "Valentine, I didn't hear you coming in."

Valentine smiled at Jocelyn, that charming, handsome smile that had won her so many years ago. He joined her beside the stove but didn't touch her. "I didn't want to disturb you, Jocelyn; you looked so peaceful. What were you thinking of?"

"Cooking with Clary," she said without thinking.

"Is that what you want?" Valentine asked, truly curious.

Jocelyn shrugged. "I'd like to have my children with me, and I'd like the chance to be the mother I never really got to be. I was always so busy, and Clary was never at home, and Jonathan-" She cut off. "I'm just daydreaming."

"Nothing wrong with that," said Valentine, and he finally reached out a hand and caressed Jocelyn's cheek. "I've been working, trying to make a few arrangements, and I'm pleased to say I think I've worked a few problems out."

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. "Problems?"

"I told you I would give you back your son," vowed Valentine, and he saw Jocelyn's eyes widen. "I would think that by dinner tonight, you might have a son."

"Valentine, you don't need to-"

"Yes, I do," said Valentine firmly, and then he brought Jocelyn's lips to his and kissed her chastely. Though her outward appearance was neutral, beneath her skin, Jocelyn was screaming. "I will be gone for most of the day, so do not look for me, but I'll be back in time for dinner. I'm sorry to leave you alone again, Jocelyn, but I must work fast if I want to organize the Clave correctly."

"Will Jonathan be home?" asked Jocelyn carefully.

"I don't think so," Valentine said. "He'll be with me most of the time."

Jocelyn tried to smile for him, and Valentine ran a hand through her hair. "Then I suppose I'll see you for dinner."

"I look forward to it," Valentine said gently, and kissed her cheek before turning and leaving.

Jocelyn listened for the sound of Valentine calling out for Jonathan, and then the click of the door closing. The moment they were gone, Jocelyn sank to the floor shaking. The cool tile felt good against her skin, but it didn't stop horrible thoughts and feelings racing through her mind.

_By dinner tonight you might have a son…_Jocelyn wondered what Valentine had meant by that. _It's not possible, it's just not possible; Jonathan is gone, long gone. _But the thought of having Jonathan back, of having the son she had thought dead, woke in her confusing emotions. She wanted her baby back, but she had learned to hate the man he had become.

_Nothing makes sense anymore, this whole world doesn't make sense anymore. _

_**Alec**_

It was the longest night of Alec's life, sitting in that cell beside Jace, feeling like his world was falling apart around him. It had taken hours for Jace to finally face the Lightwoods, but when he did, his eyes were glazed and his face blank. He said and saw nothing, and when Alec tried to talk to him, tried to wake him from his sleep, he saw nothing. It hurt Alec physically to be separated from his parabatai, and even though he still had that overwhelming sense of being connected to Jace, he wondered vaguely what if would be like to be truly and _finally _separated.

"Jace," he said softly, but Jace didn't respond. "Jace, please, talk to me; we don't have time for you to be like this."

This seemed to urge Jace on and he looked up at Alec; there was a stirring in his eyes, like something fighting for life. "Time?"

"Valentine is splitting our family up in the morning," said Alec, his eyes darting to his parents. They had fallen asleep perhaps an hour before, not long after Maryse had given up trying to coax Jace out of his silence. It had been a miserable sight, Alec thought, watching Maryse drop to her knees and plead with Jace to just speak, to listen to her, to believe that they would make it better. "By this time tomorrow you'll be off with Valentine and Isabelle and I will be in a foster home."

Jace shook his head slowly. "And so?"

"_So_," said Alec, trying to keep the frustration from his voice, "I think you and I need to talk a little about what's going to happen soon."

"There's nothing to talk about," Jace murmured, eyeing a sleeping Isabelle at his side.

"Yes, there is, because I'm not going to just be pulled off to another life and leave you with Valentine and Jonathan."

The mention of Jonathan brought Jace around; Alec saw a muscle working in Jace's jaw. "It seems we have very little choice, doesn't it?"

"Jace, please…" Alec began, but Jace was looking oddly amused.

"There's nothing for it, Alec; I'm going to be bound to Jonathan." Jace turned his face away, but Alec could feel the tension as a physical thing. He reached out a hand and placed it on Jace's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry for what I did," Alec finally said. "I meant to die, I really did; if you had just let me go…I shouldn't have let him scare me."

Jace sighed. "It's not you, Alec, it's me. I didn't want you to die, and maybe I should have let you. It's what you wanted; it wasn't my right to take it away from you."

"It didn't want to die," Alec admitted after a moment of silence. "I knew it was the only way to protect you, but I didn't want to. I guess I'm glad you stopped him, but now, after everything, I wish I could have been brave enough."

"There nothing wrong with not wanting to die," Jace said, and turned to face Alec; he looked resigned. "I don't hold anything against you, you should know that."

Alec was quiet a long time, thinking over what was to come, what he was about to lose. Jace was looking down at his hands, but he seemed more open to conversation; Alec could feel Jace's presence, at least. "What do you think it's going to be like, after Valentine…?"

"I don't know," Jace whispered. "Some books say it hurts, it can drive people crazy, but I don't think it will kill us."

"You've been my parabatai for seven years," Alec said, "I can't imagine what it'll be like to not have you there. I don't know if you understand-"

"I do," Jace said stiffly. "I don't want to be Jonathan's-Jonathan's-" Jace cut off, and clenched his fists. "I _hate_ him. I hate everything about that man. He killed my brother, he ruined my family, and he's forcing me to tie myself to a monster."

Naturally, Alec shifted so he was leaning up against Jace; Jace allowed the contact, and, after a minute, relaxed against him. "Just because we're not parabatai anymore doesn't mean we're not family, and it doesn't make Jonathan your brother. Isabelle and I will find you, and, well, at least you'll be able to find Clary."

The thought of Clary worked a change on Jace, Alec thought. Jace drew a very deep breath and closed his eyes. It had been so long since he'd been able to relax, and Alec felt warmth spread out through him. The two remained that way, side by side, until the sun finally peeked over the horizon and lit the Lightwoods' cell. With the light came the realization that it was over; Valentine had won and they were going to face their doom. Isabelle woke first, she saw Alec and Jace together, and then took Jace's hand in hers. When Robert and Maryse rose, they saw their children seated together and tried to find the strength to promise them it would be okay.

Minutes ticked by and they could hear the sound of cells being opened and closed, coming closer to them. Alec tried to focus on his heart beat, thumping along in time with Jace's. There was a horrible clanking before their door, the sound of the lock being turned, and they all looked up. The door swung to and a small group of figures was crowded there, readying to escort the Lightwoods.

It wasn't like Aline, it wasn't a desperate, last-ditch attempt to free themselves, it wasn't even real. They were taken from their cell and they were each made to cross their wrists and be marked with binding runes, like the Inquisitor had Jace. From there, they were escorted in a line from their dank cell, down a long, stone hall, and up a flight of stairs into the Gard.

The Gard was frighteningly empty, and Alec was reminded of a cave. It was dark with only the witch-light stones to hold back the black, and they did a poor job of that. As they walked, Alec kept looking back at Jace, wondering if his heart was thumping as madly as his. These were the last minutes they would be bound together, the last memories they would share as one. Once, Jace's eyes lifted up to his, and there was such pain in them that Alec couldn't bear it.

_This is how it ends? _Alec wondered. _This is where Jace and I part ways? After so many years together, after so many memories, after all the oaths and promises, this is how we end? _Somewhere, Alec knew he had always pictured him and Jace being separated by death-probably his since Jace was far too skilled-not some horrible ceremony like this. _I never thought it would end like this._

Before Alec could consider this anymore, they were being brought before a pair of large double doors. Alec, who had visited the Gard once, knew that behind these doors was the chamber where the Clave would convene. He had a fleeting image of all the shadowhunters being there, as if waiting for the Lightwoods. Had Valentine filled it with his followers? Or all the demons he had summoned to him?

The doors were opened and they were pushed through, but the room was empty. Completely bare of everything but Valentine and Jonathan, waiting at the end of the hall with the Cup. Upon seeing Jonathan, Alec's heart lurched and he felt that urge to attack the smirking boy. Their handlers pushed them into the room, and behind them, the door shut with a deep grunt. As they approached the two men, Alec felt that unnatural terror that he was about to lose a part of himself.

"Lightwoods, Jace," said Valentine, and even the sound of Jace's name on Valentine's lips angered Alec, "I'm pleased to see you here. I'm glad you didn't make a scene; you were always so stoic, so collected."

"Do not make this into a production," grunted Robert. "You've brought us here to take our children."

"I do not _have _to take them," Valentine said politely. "If you would but swear to serve me, take the runes, and join my Clave, you may keep your children. I will give you a home, a position, and power; just give me your word."

Alec's eyes moved to his parents, and he wondered if they would recant, if they would give into Valentine to protect their children, but Robert lifted his chin. "No, we will not serve you."

"Then I'm not doing anything against your will," answered Valentine simply. "Come forward and drink from the Cup."

Maryse and Robert pulled themselves free of their handlers and stepped up fearlessly. They would go to their end as they had gone through their lives: brave and willful. When they rose up to meet him, Jonathan's eyes shot from Isabelle, to Jace, to Alec, and he was grinning openly. Maryse moved up to Valentine and he gestured to the ground; she sank onto her knees, but her eyes were steely.

"Drink, Maryse," he ordered, and placed the cup to her lips. She didn't shy away from it, and Alec was proud.

Maryse fell back onto the ground on her back, and she made gasping sound, as if they air were being sucked out of her, and then her body slumped. While she lay there, drawing heavy breaths, Valentine ordered Robert forward, and he, too drank from the Cup. The Lightwood children watched their parents wither on the ground, and none of them could quite suppress the fear that they too would be reduced to helpless victims. After almost a minute of watching them, Valentine looked up to the men behind them and pointed to Maryse and Robert.

"Please take them back to their cell, and have their runes removed." Valentine looked on coldly as the Lightwoods were lifted like rag dolls and taken from his sight. His eye suddenly moved up to the children. "Would any of you three like to step forward first?"

Alec felt it was his duty, but Jace had already taken the step forward. "I won't have you hurt my brother and sister."

"I'm not hurting them, Jace, I'm helping them." He smiled at Jace all the same, and beckoned him forward. "Come, Jace, drink from the cup and receive my marks." When Jace hesitated Valentine laughed. "I'm not going to surprise you and tear you apart from Alec."

Jace released a pent up breath and stepped up to meet Valentine, but Valentine placed his palms on Jace's shoulders and pushed him down until he was kneeling before him. Isabelle and Alec drew together and watched, wondering how well Jace was going to take the drink. Valentine reached down and lifted Jace's chin up; Alec thought the way Valentine held Jace's chin was like a father: lovingly. He tipped the Cup up and Jace drank from it.

Jace held himself much better than either Robert or Maryse. He did jerk back, and his hands tensed, as if he were chocking on something, but then the runes binding his hands flared up and he threw them down. Jace coughed, gagged, and tried to roll away, but Valentine reached down suddenly and grasped Jace by the shoulder as if to stop his fall. Jace was forced to lurch forward and cough and gasp, his head resting against Valentine's knees and Valentine rubbing his back. Alec saw Jonathan's face turn very ugly at the sight of his father comforting his arch rival, but then it was wiped away. When Jace pulled back, his face was a shade paler, but he seemed alright. Before he really had time recover, Valentine withdrew a stele and whispered words over it. It glowed bright white, blindingly white, and then he tore Jace's shirt up the middle and bent him over so he could mark him on his lower back, right-hand side. The moment he'd marked Jace, he jerked him to a standing position.

"Welcome back, Jace," he said kindly, and though Jace had taken a step back, Valentine tossed him aside, right into Jonathan's arms. "Ms. Isabelle, if you would be so kind?"

Isabelle looked mutinous, and Alec wanted to step before her, just to protect her from Valentine's gaze. But, Isabelle tossed her hair back and went to meet him. Like Jace, she was forced to drink from the Cup, and she gagged and sputtered and gasped, but unlike Jace, Valentine offered her no help. She ended up, lying at his feet, gasping for her breath. The moment she regained a sense of self, Valentine pulled her up just enough so he didn't have to kneel. Like Jace, he tore her shirt, and though Isabelle slapped her hand at him, as if trying to shoo a fly away, he ignored her and marked her. She pushed herself back from him, eyes burning, and gathered up the remains of her shirt. Jace was looking at Isabelle with a mixture of sympathy and fear; if Isabelle's tempter got the better of her, who knew what Valentine might do.

Finally, Valentine turned his eyes on Alec. "Alexander, would you please join me?"

Before Alec went to drink from the Cup, he peeled his shirt off and handed it to Isabelle who hurried into it, blushing a bit. His mouth was dry, his mind blank as he went before Valentine and dropped to his knees without order. His eyes once met Jace's, but then he lifted his icy blue stare to Valentine who raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"You are certainly a Lightwood, Alexander," Valentine said conversationally as he refilled the Cup. "Such composure is to be commemorated." Alec only tilted his head in response, and then lifted his chin and drank.

It burned. There was no other way to describe the drink as it passed down his throat and into his stomach. He covered his mouth to stop himself from coughing up the drink, and he did everything in his power to not make a fool of himself in front of Valentine. It hurt, it hurt a lot more than he thought it could, but still he kept himself on his knees and his back up right.

"What's this?" asked Valentine, chuckling over at Jace. "Jonathan told me your parabatai was a coward, and yet here he is, demonstrating that Lightwood backbone."

Jace ground his teeth together. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," he answered, and then marked Alec just like Isabelle and Jace.

There was a long pause while Jace tried to twist himself free of Jonathan to comfort Alec, and Alec was catching his breath. Once the mark's light had faded and Alec was able to breathe, Valentine motioned for Jonathan to bring Jace forward and he pulled Alec up to his feet.

_This is it, _Alec thought. _This is how it's going to end. Whatever you feel, whatever it does, remember who you are._

"Don't do this, please," Jace whispered just loud enough for the four of them to hear. "Please, Valentine."

"I'm sorry, Jace, because I know how close you two are, but I can't allow this partnership to continue," Valentine said, and he sounded like he meant it. "Jonathan, hold Jace still, I suspect this might hurt them both a little."

_You're Alec Lightwood…_

Valentine ran his hand over Alec's arm and his fingers grazed the rune that he and Jace shared. His eyes landed on it, and then moved up to Alec's eyes, and then over to Jace's left arm where the other half of the rune was. He lifted the stele he had used to mark them permanently, and the entire blade glowed. He angled it against Alec's arm, just above the rune.

_You're Alec Lightwood and your parabatai is Jace Lightwood._

"This is going to hurt," Valentine warned, but Alec realized he was speaking to Jace, not him.

_Jace Lightwood was your first friend, your most trusted companion, and your brother. _

Valentine brought the blade down, and it was like he was peeling an apple. The edge of the knife seemed to slice between skin and rune, and it took a second for Alec to feel it. The moment he looked down and saw his arm bare of the rune, a shot of pain laced from his arm and down his spine. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees and then doubled over; he couldn't breathe, he couldn't make a sound, he couldn't even see.

…_Jace is your parabatai…_It felt as if a wall had come down around him, and there was no way to breech it. He was alone, desperately alone and cold. _He is…he's your other half, he's always there. You can feel him. _But Alec couldn't feel him anymore, he couldn't sense Jace as that constant reminder in the back of his mind. _You know him._

Alec lifted his gaze to Jace, and he saw that Jace was sagging in Jonathan's arms, his face was covered in sweat, and he looked ready to vomit. Their eyes met in that instant, and Alec realized he didn't know the boy who was looking back him. He knew it was Jace, and he knew Jace was his step-brother, and he knew they had been friends since they were small children, but he couldn't _feel _Jace anymore.

_I'm alone, _Alec thought, and then he gave into the darkness and knew nothing more.

_**Clary**_

"I have good news, my dear."

It was Valentine, and he was seated beside Clary's mattress, staring down on her dispassionately. Seeing his face swimming into sight before her urged Clary into life: she strained against the bonding that held her wrists and ankles and tried to spit at her father. This was the man who had torn her world apart at the seams, this was the man who had taken her friends, her mother, the boy she loved, and dangled them in her face. She stared up into his cold, grey eyes and wanted nothing more than to scratch them out.

"You still seem to have a bit of fire in you," Valentine observed. "The result of Jocelyn raising you as a Mundane, no doubt. I assure you, Clarissa, that I will change that; I won't have a daughter who flouts my authority." Clary tried to speak, but her throat was as dry as paper. "Some water, sweet heart?" he asked sardonically.

Valentine held up a glass of water, a pink straw poking out of the top. He held it to her lips and though Clary wanted to turn her face away, she was parched. Deciding it was better to accept what little favors her father gave her was better than angering him. She sucked on the straw and the feeling of water rushing over his throat was like heaven.

_Whatever he says, don't listen, _she thought firmly. _He's just going to taunt you, tease you, torture you. _

"Now, I said I have good news, Clarissa," Valentine said kindly, still giving her water. "Your mother has forgiven me, and, this means I can bring you back into the family."

Clary coughed on the water. _No! That's not possible, she wouldn't have, she couldn't have; my mother wouldn't forgive him after everything he did to her. He's lying, he lying!_

"Yes, I have given her what she wanted: her son back." He smiled victoriously down at her. "You are no longer the center of her universe, which, I think, is very good for you. She's quite ready to love a _family_, not a daughter."

Clary shook her head, knocking the water from Valentine's hand. The glass shattered and the water spread out over the floor. "…_Liar_…" Clary rasped.

"Do you think so, Clarissa?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "It doesn't matter; I'll come for you in a few days, after you've had time for this…_temper tantrum_. When you rejoin the family you'll see how right I am." He saw reached down and dabbed his fingers in the pool of water, and then rubbed her face, scrubbing some of the dirt off. Clary flinched away from his touch, but she couldn't move. "Gosh you are a mess, aren't you? I'm actually quite horrified to have you walking around the house; we'll have to do a bit of work before your ready to see your mother."

Clary snapped her face around and turned her burning eyes on him; she hoped he could see just how much she hated him. Valentine, however, only laughed. "That's not going to last, Clarissa, that attitude. Your mother loves _me_, and she'll allow me to do with you what I like; you would do well to remember that, too. Think of your life outside this room, like it is in it. The only one who can feed you, water you, clothe you, heal you, or even give you the freedom to move, is me. You belong to me, now, Clarissa."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_**Jace**_

As Alec dropped to the floor, Jace felt the ground beneath him give. He was completely unaware of what was being done to him: Valentine gripping his arm, slicing the rune off his skin, and then admiring his work. Distantly, he could hear Isabelle screaming his name and Alec's name, and then a string of curses at Valentine. He wished she wouldn't because he knew Valentine had a short temper. He slumped, completely unable to support his own weight, and Jonathan had to hold him up.

"He's not taking to it well," Jonathan said conversationally. "Look at him, he can't even hold his own weight."

"Well, Jonathan," said Valentine, taking Jace's limp body and positioning him on the floor. Jace blinked up at him and then leaned forward on his knees. He couldn't breathe evenly, and the room was spinning all around him; his stomach was sore and he wanted to lie down. "He's just had a very traumatic operation of sorts; he'll need a moment to recover."

"I don't want to be paired with him," Jonathan said simply.

_Paired with him? _Jace wondered, and he recalled vague memories from what seemed to be another life. _Paired with-with…_

"Alec!" Isabelle screamed, shaking his limp body. "Alec, wake up!"

"_Alec_," Jace croaked. Yes, he knew the name, he knew who Alec was. He lurched forward, as if scrambling about blindly for his brother. "Alec, where are you?"

"Jace, don't make a fool of yourself," chided Valentine, watching Jace scrabble on the floor. He grabbed Jace by his shoulder though Jace was fighting him off. "Come here, it's time you were joined to your parabatai."

_Joined to your parabatai? I _was_ paired. _Jace wanted to hit Valentine for some reason, though he didn't quite know why. He couldn't focus on anything, his world was spinning and there was nothing to hold him down. It was like gravity didn't exist.

"Jonathan, if you would come here a moment," Valentine said, and lugged Jace backward. Jonathan eyed Jace with bland contempt, and Valentine frowned at him. "You might not like it, Jonathan, but this is my decision, and it's the only way to set our family to rights. Jace can give you your freedom; that's what you wanted."

Jonathan rolled his eyes but then offered his father his arm. "Jocelyn had just better stop pestering me once this is over," he growled, but Valentine shot him a warning look and flicked his stele.

He whispered a few words over the stele and had Jonathan make the customary vow; Jace, who was still staring about bemused, was forced to spit out an oath by Valentine who had to use his obedience rune to bring the words out. Valentine first marked Jonathan, who scowled through it all, and then turned the stele on Jace who felt the familiar burn.

But with the burn came that horrible feeling of gravity tugging him relentlessly back down. Suddenly Jace crashed back into his body, and he felt that connection that tied him and his parabatai shoot through him. He felt the pull and his eyes roved up to Jonathan, who stared down at him with a burning look.

_Your parabatai, _said a voice in his head. It was an order, a command, an instinct. This boy was his other half, his new partner, his brother-but he just couldn't bear it. _Jonathan is your parabatai now, not Alec._

"I hate you," Jace hissed through his teeth.

Jonathan smiled gracefully. "I do hope you'll change your mind, little brother, in due time."

"I'm not your brother," Jace snapped back. "I'm not your brother you-"

"Silence!" ordered Valentine, and Jace's voice stuck in his throat. He turned his hateful gaze on Valentine, the man who had tied him to Jonathan, and had to suppress the urge to lunge at him. "Please, remove the Lightwoods and take them to wait in the antechamber. Their foster father will be here to collect them shortly."

Jace snapped about just in time to see Isabelle being pulled off Alec and dragged to her feet; Alec was unconscious. Jace saw him and jerked in his direction, but he realized he could no longer sense Alec across the distance; Alec and he were no longer bonded, and it hit him like a blow. He doubled over. "Wait!" he cried, but Isabelle and Alec were being removed and Valentine had a hand on his shoulder.

"Jace, you'll come with me; it's time you went home." Valentine glanced at Jonathan. "Will you please stay here and finish up the rest of the cell block? I'm sure dinner will be ready by the time you arrive. Besides, I think it's best Jace acclimates to his new home without you breathing down his neck."

"As you'll have it, Father," Jonathan said stiffly.

Jonathan pulled Jace onto his feet and led him forcefully from the room. Jace tried to fight him, tried to run back to his brother and sister, but Valentine walked him from the room, out of the Gard and down to the road where a carriage was waiting. As they went, Jace wondered what was to become of his friends; he was so concerned about them that he didn't realize Valentine was speaking as he helped him up into the carriage.

"…find yourself very comfortable with me, Jocelyn, and Jonathan."

Jace blinked. "And Clary?"

Valentine's eyes flickered. "Clarissa has much yet to learn, and I don't want to reward her too soon. Eventually, Jace, you two will be reunited, but not now."

"When were you planning on telling me that Clary and I weren't related?" he said evenly, though the blood under his skin was boiling.

"As soon as you deserved to know," Valentine answered. "My daughter is as much your reward and you are for her. You gave me no reason to trust you or reward you, Jace, but now you have. All that remains is Clarissa's consent."

Jace mulled it over, but noticed that Valentine was watching him very closely, and said quickly, "What do you want with me?"

Valentine leaned back in his seat, observing Jace. "Jocelyn was unhappy, and it seemed the only thing that would please her was to have her family back. You can imagine how difficult this would be for me to do."

"Well, locking her up in your house certainly does throw a wrench in the romantic date night." Jace watched Valentine, wondering if he had pushed him too far. "I don't see how I can fix your family."

"You can fix the hole Jonathan made," was all he said, and refused to speak of it anymore.

Jace stared out the window, watching Alicante pass by, but none of it mattered. He felt strangely empty, and knew it was because Alec was no longer bound to him. Nervously, Jace tested the connection between him and Jonathan, just to see what it felt like, and he got only a dull, throbbing, hatred. Jace pulled away from it at once. When he looked out the window, he saw them approaching a very large, very extravagant house, and he realized that _this _was Valentine's home. They came to a stop before the house and Valentine left the carriage first, calling over his shoulder, "Follow me."

Jace trailed Valentine up the front walk, but before they stepped up to the porch, Valentine turned and led them around the side of the house and to a small door in the back, coated in ivy. When Valentine unlocked the door and pushed it wide, Jace saw a servants' stair that probably ran up all the many levels of the house. Curious, Jace stared ahead but didn't move.

_Am I going to be a servant here? _Jace wondered, not putting it past Valentine. After all, Jace had given him what he wanted; bound to Jonathan like he was, the other boy was sure to feel Jace's more empathetic tendencies. _He's got no other use but to keep me alive for Jonathan's sake._

"Go up to the third floor, Jace," Valentine said, and pushed him in. It was a tight fit, and Jace wondered how Valentine, such a broad man, could move easily in the wooden stairwell. When then reached the third floor, Valentine steered him into a lavish hall. "Second room on the right, if you please."

Jace paused outside a closed door, wondering again what might be on the other side. When he didn't open the door, Valentine reached around him and threw it wide. Jace was surprised to see a bedroom, clean, ordered, and ready-made for an inhabitant. He paused on the spot, but Valentine gave him a sharp shove and closed the door with a snap behind them.

"Why are you doing this?" Jace asked, exploring the room. It was nice, rather larger than his room at the Institute. "Why did you bring me here?" He turned around and saw Valentine smiling at him, and he'd never seen a more terrifying look. Never, not once in all the years he had lived as Valentine's son, had Valentine fixed him with such a hungry, possessed smile. Instinctively, Jace drew back a step, and then another, and another, until his back was brushing against the wall. "What do you want with me?"

Valentine, instead of answering, reached over to the desk opposite the bed and pulled the chair out. On the chair was a flat, wide box; Valentine offered it to Jace. "Open it, Jace."

Jace stared at the box. "What's in it?" Valentine thrust the box into Jace's hands, and smiled even wider. Slowly, Jace's fingers pulled the box apart and found clothes: jeans, a tee shirt, and a loose, buttoned shirt. Jace raised one eyebrow and tossed the box aside. "Have you gone completely insane?"

Valentine took his time going over to the bed and picking up the box. "Jace, I've explained this to you. Jocelyn was inconsolable. She wanted her son back; I couldn't give her Jonathan, so-"

"So you're giving her _me_?" Jace spat, the truth dawning on him. "That's why you forced Jonathan and me to become parabatai, because you wanted us to be brothers? You really have lost it, you know that? All those years on your own must have done a number on you-" Valentine's hand smacking across Jace's face cut him off.

"I raised you, Jace, to be Jocelyn's son, and so you are." Valentine eyed the box in his hand. "Dinner is in two hours; go wash off and get into these clothes. I'll be back in thirty minutes to see you've fixed yourself up." Still smiling, he gave Jace a push in the direction of the bathroom, and then turned and left.

Jace just stood there, his mind racing as he processed everything he had just heard. _I raised you to be Jocelyn's son…_Jace considered his upbringing, all the training, all the pain, all the hard work and determination-all the things a shadowhunter family as old as the Fairchilds would have liked. But there were all the small things, too: learning to sail a boat, learning to play the piano, his spaghetti birthday-all the things Jocelyn would have indulged her son in.

_Did Valentine only save my life and raise me to make Jocelyn happy? Is that all he ever really wanted me for?_ For some reason, even though Jace had learned to hate him over the last few weeks, it still hurt to know that the man he had considered his father had only ever thought of him as a replacement, something he could mold to make Jocelyn happy. _He must have been ecstatic the day my mother died._

With that thought, Jace threw the box of clothes across the room and stormed into the small, adjoining bathroom. Jace had been in the cell a few days, and before that, he had been trekking across Idris for Valentine and Jonathan, and as a result, he was rather dirty. Jace scrubbed away the dirt and blood and sweat, not quite sure how it all could have been on him. Afterward, he stared at himself in the mirror, considering his reflection. He didn't look too good; there was a cut across his cheek, a wide array of bruises, and some nasty looking demon burns.

_Jocelyn is gonna love this, _he thought bitterly, but then realized he didn't know anything about Jocelyn. He knew she was Clary's mother, and he knew she had been artistic and rebellious, but what did that mean? Had he gone before Myrse looking like this, she would have sent him back to his room to fix up, but what would Jocelyn do?

Jace eyed the clothing with disgust; they were so horribly Mundane. He managed to get into the jeans, but when faced with the prospect of the shirt, he couldn't take it. Jace tossed the box off the bed where is skidded on the floor. He threw himself on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to work through the shock of being here. Ten minutes later, though, when Valentine returned and saw the clothing on the floor, he knew he was in trouble.

"Jace, what did I tell you?" he asked, examining the shirts. "Come over here, boy."

"I'm not Jonathan," Jace said simply, though he got up and went to Valentine.

Valentine laughed. "I know _that_, Jace." Valentine spun him around and jerked his arms up; for a moment, Jace thought he was going to hit him, but then he felt Valentine pull the shirt over his head. "No one can be Jonathan; he is unique. He is the best shadowhunter of this age, he will take my place when I have died, and he is perfect; you, Jace, are none of those things. What you are, is the son Jocelyn wants. Jonathan is a Morgenstern, you are a Fairchild."

Jace felt a snarl working up and he pushed Valentine away. "I can get dressed myself!"

"Apparently, you can't," Valentine snapped, and jerked Jace back over. "Apparently, I have to do everything for you because you're still a little, whining child. Stand still!" It was an official command, and in the back of Jace's mind, a voice said _STILL._ He couldn't move. Valentine took out the other shirt, a nice plaid thing, and tugged Jace into it. "Now, when I take you to meet Jocelyn, you do whatever she says. If you play the role well enough maybe I'll give you something _you _want. Maybe I'll see how dear Clarissa feels about rejoining the family."

_**Isabelle**_

The men threw Isabelle down in a large empty hall full of nothing but tall pillars. She landed heavily, unprepared for the fall, and still weak from the Cup. Beside her, Alec was dropped like a sack of potatoes, and he landed in a heap of pale, glistening skin. Isabelle crawled over to her brother and glared up at the men who had left them. They stared back, unblinkingly, and that was when Isabelle saw they had no marks.

_So this is my parents' fate,_ Isabelle wondered. _When they are stripped of their marks it must drive any sense of self from them. _She pulled away and wrapped her arms about Alec, cradling his head on her lap.

"Alec, Alec, come on, wake up." Alec didn't respond and Isabelle pinched his cheek. "You need to wake up before someone comes for us. _Please_ wake up. Open your eyes."

Alec remained silent and unconscious, and after a few minutes Isabelle gave up. She wondered if maybe this was better for Alec after what he had gone through. It must be a traumatic experience, to be so closely tied to a person and then have them torn away from you. Maybe it was like when a person you loved dearly died.

_Like Max,_ she thought after a beat.

The loss of Max was still so powerful a blow that Isabelle shied away from it. When she closed her eyes she could still see Max's face, still hear his voice in her ears, still feel the warm weight of his small body against her. Especially on that last night when she had taken him upstairs and tucked him tightly into bed. The memory of it all haunted her still, and she suspected it would haunt her forever; so maybe that was what Alec was feeling. And who was she kidding? After Max died, she would have loved to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Okay, Alec, keep sleeping, sleep until you stop hurting," she whispered, and she continued to run her hands through his hair in the most comforting gesture she could.

As the minutes ticked by, Isabelle began to think about Jace. Her last image of him was being held back by Valentine, his face panic stricken and Alec's name on his lips. He had seemed as lively and driven as he always had, not at all like Alec. She assumed it had something to do with being bound to Jonathan; Jace had a connection again, Alec had been left alone.

Valentine had said he had plans for Jace, and it was hard to imagine what those plans might be. When the truth had come out about Valentine raising him, Isabelle had been shocked by how brutal his childhood had been. The thought of him returning with that man, even if he had time to recover and grow, didn't sit well with her. Wherever Valentine had taken Jace could only be worse than where she was going.

This, however, just brought back the resounding thought that she and Alec _were_ being taken somewhere. Fear bubbled up in her throat and she felt like she was choking. Her parents had been taken away, stripped of their runes, and were going to be made slaves. She was never going to see them again, and if she did, would they recognize her? It left her and Alec with this mysterious foster family who was going to be keeping them until they were _twenty-one_.

"We'll just have to be strong," Isabelle said firmly to Alec. "We're Lightwoods, and that's no small name. We have a history, an honor, a family name to uphold." She couldn't help but remember Jace when he came to their family-his foster family-with his bland, unseeing eyes and careless manner. "We'll be just like Jace, you and I. We'll go with this family, but we'll still be Lightwoods."

"You'll excuse me for saying this, but I don't believe the name _Lightwood_ exists anymore."

Isabelle looked up and found herself staring into a face that was going to be etched in her memory as the traitor who had ruined their lives. The dark hair, the beaked nose, the prominent cheekbones, she knew them all rather well. However, though she knew him, she couldn't find the voice to speak.

"Why is the boy here?" he asked sharply, his thick Romanian accent washing over Isabelle. "I thought I was only taking the girl."

One of the blank, cloaked figure moved forward and bowed. "The boy was spared, Consul; Valentine told us to bring him to you."

"Well, I don't want him; take him back to his parents. He doesn't belong within the Clave-"

"Screw you, Malachi!" Isabelle spat, springing up to her feet. She could feel anger coursing through her quicker than ever. "You did this, you helped Valentine do all this. I'm not going with him," she added to the cloaked figures about her. "Take me back to a cell in the Gard, I'll rot there before I go anywhere this traitor!"

"Careful how you toss names around, my dear," Malachi said, smiling a little at her. "It's a new age and the only traitors are those who deny the power of Valentine."

"You sold us all to him," Isabelle hissed.

"And look where it got me," Malachi smirked, running his eyes over Isabelle. "More importantly, look where it got your parents and friends. They're either dead or imprisoned, and if you're not careful, you could join them."

"I'd rather."

Malachi examined Isabelle another moment and then turned to the men about him. "If it is Valentine's will, then I'll take the boy, but the Angel knows I don't want him. I have no clue where I'm going to put him. Why isn't he awake?"

Isabelle could feel her fingers digging into her palm. "He's been hurt."

"A pity he didn't die," sniffed Malachi. "Carry him out to the carriage on the road; Isabelle, walk with me."

"I'm going with Alec," she breathed.

Malachi's eyes darkened. "I'm not going to start my role as your guardian with you flouting me. You will join me now, Isabelle."

If Isabelle had any intention of going with Alec, she missed her chance when one of the men lifted Alec and hurried away. She made to follow, but Malachi snatched her arm and tugged her back. She broke her arm from his grasp, but he seemed unconcerned by her little display. He set off at a forceful pace and Isabelle had no choice but to follow; after all, he _did _have Alec.

They left the Gard and headed for the street before the building. Waiting for them was a small, carriage, a man sitting at the reins. When he saw them approaching he tipped his head to Malachi and then gave Isabelle a double take, even dirty and dressed in her brother's worn shirt, she cut quite a figure. Malachi opened the door to the carriage and helped Isabelle in, but she tried to fight when she saw one of the men dumping Alec in the small seat behind the carriage. Malachi just shoved her in, snapping the door shut.

As soon as they were in the protective silence of the carriage, Malachi turned to face Isabelle with a dark look. "I won't bandy words with you, Isabelle, but I must impress upon you how little patience I have for children."

Isabelle, seated across from Malachi, could only hear the pounding of blood in her ears. "What a coincidence, I don't have much patience for ugly, middle-aged, cowardly traitors."

"See, that right there is what I was referring to," Malachi sighed. "I have agreed to take you on mostly because Valentine wanted to keep a close eye on you, and he had to make sure you'd go to a suitable home."

"Mostly?" Isabelle asked sharply. "How much money did he give you?"

Malachi chuckled darkly. "No money, my dear, no, I have no interest in that."

"Then what?"

"We'll come to _that_ another time," Malachi said simply, and Isabelle felt his eyes resting on her uncomfortably. "For the moment, I'd like to lay down a few rules, and I hope you will understand."

Isabelle crossed her arms and looked away. She wasn't going to sit there and listen to some man who had betrayed them all tell her how _she _was going to live. Maybe Malachi knew how she felt, maybe he just wasn't accustomed to people ignoring him, because he reached across the carriage and took Isabelle's chin in his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"You will keep yourself presentable and polite; I entertain many important people and am an influential member of the Clave, and I won't have a wayward daughter. When you arrive you will begin lessons for keeping a household-"

"_What_?" Isabelle spat, slapping his hand away.

Malachi raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I was going to let you continue with this reckless, highly _inappropriate_, warrior combat? No, I was raised a traditionalist, and that is how I will raise you. When I was growing up, the Clave didn't allow women to do such things." He smiled at Isabelle's indignation. "It's a new world, Isabelle, and you have a new place in it."

"I'm not going to be your housekeeper," Isabelle said icily.

"You will find that you'll be whatever I tell you to be," Malachi shrugged. "As I was saying, once you're settled, I'll have the _housekeeper _begin lessons for you. I think you will find that those chores alone will keep you very occupied. Since it seems your brother is unwell, you will be charged with his care, and, once he's more himself, he will be placed under your supervision. Keep in mind, Isabelle, that while you will be watching over your brother, I am still his legal guardian, and I can punish him as I see fit."

"Don't you touch him!" Isabelle snarled.

"I won't have to as long as you keep him in check, Isabelle," Malachi chided. "You have to remember, though, that I didn't _want _Alec, and he is easily disposable."

Isabelle was shaking. _He's right, he's right and you hate it, but he's right. He has Alec and no one is going to come to save you; your parents are gone and Valentine took Jace. You're all on your own now. _

"Don't hurt my brother," Isabelle finally said, though the words tasted like ash in her mouth. "I'll keep your house and your rules, but you can't hurt Alec."

Malachi smiled as the carriage they rode in slowed before a large house set on a sloping lawn. Isabelle saw the towering house and felt her heart miss a beat. These last few minutes marked the last moments of freedom. Whatever lay ahead, she knew she would rather go back.

_**Luke**_

Darkness had become a constant companion, and it was lucky chance that Luke was a werewolf, and could shift at will. Trapped in the cells deep below the Gard, Luke hadn't seen the light of the sun in days. He had suspected that part of his punishment was this darkness, but little it did to faze him anymore. His wolf eyes more than served their purpose; he had spent the last two days curled up in his wolf form, waiting for Valentine.

_Surely, he's coming_, Luke thought, flicking his ears forward as a scream echoed from far above him. _He'll come to gloat, at least; he hasn't had the chance to with the Clave._

Luke knew Valentine well; he had been gracious, polite, conservative and restrained while dealing with fellow shadowhunters. He had wanted to show them that it was _them, _not him, who had sunk so low; he had to be the perfect, generous, forgiving leader for the Clave. However, he had a bone to pick with Luke-a very personal bone-and he could be as cruel and crazed as he wanted. Luke, after all, was a werewolf. He was an animal.

_He might kill me, _Luke thought carelessly. _I certainly have earned his enmity; besides, he thinks Jocelyn and I…_Luke shied away from the thought of Jocelyn because she had been on his mind so much those last few days.

Valentine had been obsessed with Jocelyn, truly consumed with his desire to have her back. Jocelyn had once told him that a Morgenstern will never let what is theirs go; she was sure Valentine would burn down the world and dig her out of the ashes. Now, Jocelyn had been forced to go back to him. Luke had watched Jocelyn rush to Clary's side, had watched Valentine's hungry eyes devour her, and then he had lifted her onto his horse and she had been spirited away. It hadn't helped that Clary had been taken away with her; if anything, it just made it that much worse.

Clary was too wild, too willful, too much a Mundane for Valentine; Luke knew he would not suffer Clary's behavior. Luke had no trouble admitting he was scared for Clary, scared for what Valentine might do to her. She was, after all, the reason Jocelyn had left him, and Valentine would hold her accountable. He wouldn't care that she was his daughter, his wonderful, talented, funny, sweet daughter. He would only care that she had torn Jocelyn from his arms.

The wolf in the cell whined a little. Clary was practically his daughter, far more his daughter than Valentine's. He felt a strange stirring in the pit of his stomach; it was pulsating anger directed at Valentine. He knew, then, without a doubt, that if he ever got wind of Valentine hurting Clary, he would tear his throat out.

_You had better just kill me, Valentine, because if you don't, I won't rest until I've killed you._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

_**Valentine**_

His hand on Jace's lower back offered enough pressure to move the boy forward, enough so that is seemed pointless to keep up the constant mental command of _WALK_. However, there was also the stream of commands _SMILE, BE POLITE, BE RESPECTFUL, BE LOVING._ The last one Valentine knew was going to put Jace through his paces; it wasn't that the boy couldn't _feel_, no that was Jonathan's illness, it was that forcing him to feel for someone who wasn't his blood. Even as Valentine forced his will on the boy, he could feel Jace fighting back; he had to hand it to Jace, he was a fighter.

_No more fighting, _Valentine thought, looking down on Jace. _It's time you took up the place I've been grooming you for since you were born. _

They reached the edge of the stairs and Jace hesitated, staring down the steep slope. Valentine smirked and rubbed Jace's back in a fatherly gesture. "Don't worry, Jace, I'm not going to push you down; though I must impress upon you that dinner is in an hour and I have work I must attend to before that. Please, hurry."

Jace glared up at Valentine, and he smiled back, admiring the gold that was so rare an eye color. "I don't want to meet Jocelyn," he snapped back insolently.

_YES YOU DO. _"I think you will find that you do," Valentine smirked and pointed Jace down the stairs. The boy put up the usual resistance, but he wasn't so much a fool; Valentine had trained Jace to choose his battles, this one wasn't worth fighting. "I don't know why you find the idea of being my step son so distasteful. There are children who would kill to be in your position, and here you are, making a mess of it all."

"I'm not making a mess," Jace growled back, his head still banging with the most recent command. He carefully took a few of the steps, Valentine prowling behind him.

"But you do find it distasteful," Valentine said evenly. "But, why? You have no problem being my son before, when you thought me Michael Wayland, and that includes the rather _stern _upbringing. What has changed?"

"You're not Michael Wayland," Jace pointed out sourly. "You're Valentine Morgenstern, and I don't want to be a Morgenstern."

_Foolish boy. _"Is that because of Clarissa?"

Jace paled as Valentine expected, and he enjoyed the sight of Jace looking so ill. "This has nothing to do with her."

"I suspect it has everything to do with her," Valentine replied swiftly, pressing his advantaged. They were passing through a long hall toward the sitting room where Jocelyn was reading. Valentine snatched Jace back as they reached the door. "Do as I say, Jace, and perhaps I will allow you to see her soon."

Jace was staring at his feet, grinding his teeth together. "And what is it you want me to do?"

"Be the son Jocelyn's always wanted."

Valentine felt Jace's will almost as a physical thing. What it must have cost him to concede to Valentine's will! Slowly, like an uncoiling snake, Jace allowed Valentine's commands to wash over him and wrap him up. He wasn't going to fight when Clarissa's life was on the line.

"As long as she doesn't pinch my cheeks," Jace grunted, and Valentine reached around him to open the door to the sitting room.

_**Jace**_

The sitting room where Jocelyn had sequestered herself was large, open, and painted pleasant buttermilk yellow with floral patterns stenciled in the boarder. A window was open to the still warm day, and from it, the sound of horse hooves and carriages was heard. Jace noticed first the grand piano, dominating one corner of the room near an arch that gave way to the dining room. The walls were lined with bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling. There was a table with a chess set waiting. Opposite the entrance, surrounded by many chairs and couches, was an ornate fireplace and mantle. Seated before this fireplace was Jocelyn.

She stirred when the door opened, and when she saw Valentine there, stood and smiled, warm and welcoming. "Valentine, I didn't expect you so early…And who is this?" She had just spotted Jace, and she glanced at him, wide and full of polite curiosity.

"Jocelyn," said Valentine, and Jace felt him push him in the direction of the woman. "I told you I would give you back your son, and, while I can't heal Jonathan-" here, something in Jocelyn seemed to flinch "-I can give you the son you would have had. Perhaps Clarissa mentioned a young man named Jace to you?"

"Jace," Jocelyn said softly, and the sound of his name on her lips made Jace relax just a little. "His name was in passing, yes; why have you brought him?"

Jace felt Valentine shove him forward, as if presenting a new pet to the owner. "I raised him, Jocelyn, since he was a small child, and I raised him for you. I knew I could never give you back Jonathan, but Jace is everything Jonathan is, just softer."

_Softer?_ Jace thought indignantly. He opened his mouth to argue, but he felt something clap down on him like a vice. _BE SILENT._ It was Valentine, and his command shook through Jace, locking his jaw. Jace lowered his gaze before Jocelyn saw his fury.

"Oh, Valentine, I don't know…" her voice wavered off and Jace wondered what might happen if Jocelyn didn't want him. "He's certainly a handsome boy, and no doubt a gifted fighter, but I just don't know if I could ever-"

"Love him?" Valentine asked sharply. When he saw Jocelyn's eyes soften, he looked down. Jace had never seen Valentine so contrite. "I don't deny that he is not Jonathan-I know this. But Jace can still be a good son, the son you should have had. He's well-read, well trained, polite, and he knows how to play the piano-something I thought you might appreciate."

Jocelyn looked uncertain, but she didn't miss the way Valentine was holding onto Jace, or the way Jace refused to meet her gaze. There was something more at work here. "Well, he certainly does have the face of an angel, and Clary spoke highly of him." Jocelyn reached out for Jace and Valentine forced him to move forward into her arms. Jocelyn drew him into a careful embrace and finally lifted his chin so his eyes met hers. "Why don't you play the piano for me, Jace? I would love to hear it." She looked over his head at Valentine. "Thank you."

Valentine leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her lips. "I'll see you two for dinner shortly."

As soon as Valentine was gone Jace felt the pressure of his presence vanish. He lifted his head and studied the woman before him. Jocelyn had drawn him against her side and was leading him to the piano. She was tall, much taller than he thought Clary's mother would be. But, she did have the same delicate bone structure, the same beautiful eyes, and a mess of red hair. Her hand on Jace's side was warm and constant, and he had to admit, it felt good to have it there, like someone was watching out for him.

"Are you hurt?" Jocelyn asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Jace paused, wondering if he had heard her correctly. "Did he hurt you?"

Jace brew a breath. "I'm fine." He wanted that to be it, he wanted to be strong and silent and impress Jocelyn, but for some reason, the thought of Alec and Isabelle came to his mind. "He took the Lightwoods."

Jocelyn nodded, considering. "Alec is your parabatai?"

"_Was_," Jace croaked, and that was all he could manage.

"Is he dead?" she asked immediately.

"No, but he-he split us," Jace said. "I'm bound to Jonathan now."

Jocelyn sucked in a breath and drew him to a stop. "He severed the connection between you two? Are you alright?" When Jace failed to answer, Jocelyn made him look at her. "Jace, are you okay?"

"I will be," he finally said.

To his surprise, Jocelyn kissed his hair and gave him a very gentle hug; it was something very different from what Maryse would have done had she been there. _Don't think about Maryse, not now, not after what just happened_. Jace turned his face away, but he sank against Jocelyn's side all the same.

"Sit here, on the bench, and play for me," Jocelyn ordered, pointing to the chair. As Jace sat down, she joined him; he stared at her a little confused. She pointed to the keys and Jace's uncertain hands began to play idly. "He watches me always, Jace, checking to see that I'm happy; if for even a moment he thinks I'm not, he'll hurt Clary."

Jace's hand slipped over the keys. "What's he done with Clary?"

Jocelyn reached over and placed Jace's hands back on the piano. "I don't know, but her life depends on how happy I am being a mother, so forgive me, but it's not in my control to act as I like."

Jace checked her eyes and saw how sad she looked. Yes, Valentine had certainly gotten to her. "Not that I don't want to be your son, but…well, I've got a family."

"I know that," said Jocelyn, "but you'll have to play along. Please, for Clary's sake."

Jace nodded, and his thoughts raced to Clary; he had tried to put her from his mind for the last few days. Those last moments he had seen her had not been encouraging in the least. "I haven't seen her since…"

"Neither have I," Jocelyn said, and her eyes lowered painfully. "I'm scared for her, and I don't know what Valentine might do to her if driven to it. As long as he's happy, though, as long as he thinks that I love him, he'll let Clary go. I've been pleading with him for days, and I think he's finally slipping; I just don't know how much longer Clary can go."

Jace hated Valentine, really hated Valentine, but the thought of him holding Clary hostage was too much for him. "Then I guess I'll have to play along."

Jocelyn offered Jace a warm, sincere smile. "You're a good boy, Jace; I'm glad my daughter found you before something horrible happened to her. You took good care of her, I heard. You'll take good care of her."

Jace didn't know whether he quiet agreed with Jocelyn there. _Take good care of her? I couldn't even stop Valentine from taking my brother and sister away. How could I protect Clary from her father?_

"What does he want with us?" Jace began playing the keys again, picking up a thoughtless tune.

"He wants his family back," Jocelyn mused sadly, and her eyes glittered. "We're going to have to give it to him."

Jace bowed his head to the inevitable and continued playing. They stayed like that a while, Jace playing and Jocelyn sitting, her hand around him protectively, and her eyes darting from the door where Valentine would come from and Jace. When dinner was almost ready, the door opened again and Valentine stood there. His eyes alighted on Jace and Jocelyn together, and he smiled triumphantly.

"Shall we take dinner?" he asked, cutting Jace's music off midway.

Jocelyn rose from the bench, pulling Jace up with her; he could feel her arms about him, but unlike Valentine, it was warm and comforting. At first, Jace was confused by Jocelyn's constant presence, but when he saw Valentine come forward, as if to push him away and leave him open to another mental attack, and then check on the spot of Jocelyn holding him, Jace understood. Jocelyn was _protecting_ him as best she could; so long as he was with Jocelyn he was safe from Valentine.

"He's an accomplished pianist," Valentine commented simply. "Would you two care to join me and Jonathan for dinner?"

In his side, Jocelyn's finger nails sunk into his skin against her will. Jace smirked. _As if we have a choice._

They passed into the dining hall, and seated before them, was Jonathan; he rose up respectfully, but there was a sardonic smile on his face. Jace felt an unusual anger bubble up in his throat at the sight of Jonathan looking so perfectly at home, and he had the urge to lunge at him and throttle the life out of him. It was so real Jace swore he could feel heat burning through his blood. Just as suddenly as it came, though, it was gone, only to be replaced with shock and disgust.

_What's wrong with you?_ he demanded of himself. _Calm down, don't lose it over some boy's smile._

_**Isabelle**_

"This is your room, miss," said the housekeeper, throwing open the door and revealing a pleasant sized room with few furnishings. "Dinner is at six-thirty sharp, a half hour from now, so please wash and get dressed quickly. I'll be back a few minutes before to check you over."

Isabelle turned to say thank you, caught herself before showing any kindness to the enemy, and entered the room. It was nice, clean, and conservative. The bed was made, the floor swept and polished until the wood shone, and the desk was well organized and waiting for study. Warily, she crossed the room and tested to see if the window would open; it did and she felt the wind rush through, blowing her hair off her face and neck. She looked down and saw the back lawn and garden beneath her, and beyond that, trees.

_It wouldn't be too hard to escape. You could use the treacle and climb down the side of the house, and then it's only a couple hundred yards to the woods. It would only take five minutes and you'd be free, free to escape back to-back to New York and…_

_And what_? sneereda voice, and her heart sank. _What can you do in New York? You're only family is here, your friends are here, your home is here. Besides, Alec can't run away, not in the condition he's in._

Isabelle's head dropped and she slouched back to her bed. Idly, her fingers plucked at the strings of the knit blanket on her bed, and she wondered already what life could have been life had she stayed with her parents, or had they never lost the war to Valentine, or…had they never met Clary in the first place. She knew she couldn't blame Clary for what had happened, but she wondered if she wouldn't be here right now, or if Jace might be here with her.

"No, Valentine wanted him from the start," Isabelle said to herself. "He couldn't have escaped that any better than I could have escaped this." Isabelle sank a little deeper on the bed, almost weighted down by her despair; she felt small tears prickling at her eyes. It didn't seem fair that in one fell sweep, Valentine had taken her parents _and _her brother from her, as well as leaving her trapped with the traitor who had betrayed them all to him. "But you still have Alec, and he needs you now more than he ever did. Remember that."

The thought of Alec did stir Isabelle on, and she rose from her bed and began to inspect the wardrobe that had been left for her. It was an unpleasant mixture of modern day and Victorian style clothing; there were dresses with voluptuous layers and corseted tops, slinky dresses made of colored silk, gowns for formal occasions, work dresses, riding dresses, dresses, dresses, dresses! Isabelle began throwing them haphazardly across the room, many of them landing on the floor and setting to wrinkle. Furious, Isabelle threw open the drawers on the bottom of the wardrobe and found tights and stockings in one and a number of shoes, some sensible, some high-heeled, in the other.

"You've got to be _kidding_," Isabelle snarled. She liked dresses, she likes heels, she liked dressing up, but she didn't think she could handle wearing a dress all day, every day for the rest of her life. "Can't I have _one _pair of jeans, just one? I'll even settle for sweats!"

Regardless of what Isabelle would have settled for, though, Malachi had only provided one thing, and that was dresses. Isabelle sighed, forced herself to remember Alec, and chose a simple black number. As she held it up to herself in the mirror, she noticed just how dirty she was. A bit more exploration of the room revealed a small, private bathroom with fresh towels; Isabelle quickly wet a towel and scrubbed her face, neck and shoulders.

Ten minutes later, Isabelle was seated on her bed amid the ruins of her closet, staring out the window, and waiting for the housekeeper to return and take her back to Malachi. She heard the lock on the door click and the door opened; Isabelle didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the woman, didn't even move.

"Miss," the woman said, watching Isabelle for a sign. "Miss, have you dressed and readied yourself for dinner?"

Isabelle raised an eyebrow, smirking. _No, I've just been sitting here for the last half hour. By the Angel, you are unbearable!_

"Please turn around, miss, and let me see you; I have to make sure you're presentable for the master of the house," the woman said, and tapped Isabelle on the shoulder. Isabelle stood and faced the woman with a blank face. Her eyes raked Isabelle from head to foot, pausing on her messy, dirty hair, her bare legs, and her shoeless feet. "We'll have to fix that hair, miss."

_I can do my own hair you horrible woman, _Isabelle thought, but nodded her consent all the same. The housekeeper took her to the bathroom, sat her down on the rim of her tub, and set to work pinning her hair up off her neck. She clicked her tongue at the length of Isabelle's hair. "Only young women wear their hair so long and down; I'll cut your hair tomorrow: a nice, mature cut about your shoulders. You'll look so nice." Isabelle squirmed a bit then against her will. She liked her hair long, it flattered her face and reminded her of her mother when she had been this young. When the woman finished her hair, she gently helped Isabelle up. "How about some nice black shoes, and then it's down to dinner."

The housekeeper chose a pair of black heels, not too high, but clearly meant for formal occasions. She led Isabelle back down the hall and stairs, and down to the bottom floor; they passed by a library, study, the stairs that led to the kitchen, and finally arrived at a set of double doors which the housekeeper opened and bowed her through to a dining hall.

"Ah, Isabelle, my dear, you look stunning." Isabelle bit back a sharp reply at Malachi's comment, and instead, she crossed the room and sat down, keeping her eyes anywhere but on Malachi. "Have you found your room to your liking?"

"It's plenty spacious enough," Isabelle sniffed, picking at the fork by her plate. "Where's Alec's room?"

A dark look passed over Malachi's face at the mention of Alec. "He's in the attic room."

"He's in the attic?" Isabelle asked sharply, frowning blatantly. "You put my injured, sick brother in the _attic_?"

"It's a very large room, plenty of spare space for your brother to study and practice," Malachi said indifferently. "Now, please, if you would-"

"Where is he?" Isabelle demanded. "Why isn't he eating dinner with us? He needs food and water to heal, not to be locked in some attic"

"I feel differently on the matter," Malachi said evenly. "Your brother must earn his right to join us at the table. He's hardly a fit warrior, and, given his _predilections_, I'm not very interested in having him around me. No, he needs to heal himself and then get back to his lessons."

Isabelle's eyes flashed dangerously and she slammed her open palm down. "And how's he supposed to do that when he's starving to death up in some cold attic?"

Malachi raised an eyebrow. "I think you can take care of him. After this meal, I'll have Myra show you to the kitchens. I trust you can tend to your brother until he's up and about again?"

_And if I don't?_ Isabelle thought viciously. "Of course."

The housekeeper-Myra-served them dinner in due course, and Isabelle felt her stomach lurch at the sight of roast chicken, butter and herb potatoes, and fresh bread. It had been so long since she had eaten anything that for a few minutes, Isabelle did nothing but eat. The thought of Alec, however, drew Isabelle up short and she realized that he had been starving just as long as she had. The food turned to ash in her mouth.

"Now, I've done some thinking of your daily schedule, and I believe I've come up with a list of chores and lessons to fill your time," Malachi said, sipping his wine and smiling at Isabelle with an empty look. "I trust you have some skill beside killing? An instrument? Dance? Painting? Singing" When Isabelle continued to stare at him, he sighed. "Isabelle, you ought to have some talent beside the deadly arts; pick two things you'd like to learn and I'll have arraignments made for an instructor to come here. I would like for you dedicate at least three hours a day to each task you choose to pursue."

Isabelle nodded stiffly, holding back a very rude comment; she didn't have any desire to be artistic. "Anything else?"

"After your three hours, you will have lessons in running a household from Myra. She will teach you how to order the kitchen, keep track of the chores and the servants performing them, how to keep financial books, and a number of other small tasks." He gauged Isabelle's reaction, and she looked appalled. "I think working in the gardens will be useful, as well. There will be a short hour or two dedicated to rune study-purely theoretical. You'll work in the kitchen in the evening with the staff, learning how to cook and prepare food, as well."

_You'll work in the kitchen…_It was those words that broke though Isabelle's impassive silence. All those years her mother had kept her out of the kitchen in their house, fearing that she would be relegated to kitchen duty. Now, after seventeen years, she was being sent there. All her mother's hard work, dashed to pieces by a man masquerading as her father…

"I can't cook," Isabelle said breathlessly.

Malachi's eyes ran over her again. "You'll learn how. Now, how about we have dessert and then discuss your interests; I really do need to know what you want to learn if I want to hire tutors soon."

Chocolate mousse was served and Isabelle stared down at it, thinking…thinking of her life spiraling out of her control. She might has well have been stripped of her runes and gone with her parents for all the freedom she would have here. There was no more training, no more fighting, no more exhilaration as she ran headlong into battle with a demon, whip at the ready. She was going to be locked in a house, spending her hours cleaning and cooking and looking after servants. She would have to spend the rest of her life as a housewife.

_It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair! _she thought to herself desperately. _Why couldn't I have gone with my parents, why couldn't I have gone with Jace?_

The answer, though, was clear in her thoughts. _I stayed because of Alec. _

"So, Isabelle, have you given a bit of thought of as to what you would like to study?" Malachi leaned forward, and there was something particularly cruel in his eyes. "You certainly have the body for a dancer, and the fingers for an instrument. Have you ever played?"

Isabelle's eyes dropped to her hands and her long fingers. _Jace had long fingers, Jace could play the piano with them…_ "I don't play."

"Then should learn, yes? How about you learn to play the harp?" Malachi nodded to himself. "I think that will be a perfectly acceptable instrument, yes, perfect."

"The harp?" Isabelle asked, scrunching her nose. "I've never played a…" It didn't matter, Malachi had long since made up his mind. "Alright, I'll play the harp and I'll…dance."

"How quaint," he chuckled, and Isabelle knew he was laughing at her. "I'll see to it. For now, it's a bit late, don't you think? You should go see to your brother for the rest of the evening; I'll be in my study-" He rose and towered over her, his dark eyes resting a long while on her small, pale face "-don't disturb me."

_I wasn't planning on it, _Isabelle thought angrily. "Okay."

Malachi left Isabelle and she watched him go, eyes burning; when the door closed, Isabelle turned her attention back to her half eaten dessert and drove her fork into it viciously. After a few minutes, the door to the kitchens opened and Myra appeared. She offered Isabelle the bravest smile she could.

"Malachi told me you should come to the kitchen and fix a meal for your brother." When Isabelle stood and faced her with a blank, even face, Myra cupped her face gently. "Come with me, miss, there's plenty of food for him. I have stew I can heat up."

Isabelle shook her head numbly and let Myra lead her away. The kitchen of the grand house was in the basement, and Myra led Isabelle down a tight, wooden staircase that opened up to a wide, low-ceilinged flagged-stone room. A wave of intoxicating smells hit Isabelle the moment she was in the kitchen. Myra took Isabelle around the room, almost like a tour, and brought her to a counter near a stove. A pot was on the stove, something bubbling inside it.

"Ah, Archer's been a good boy, warmed the stew up early for you." Myra found a ladle and a bowl and began pouring spicy beef stew. "This should bring a bit of color to your brother's face; hand me that loaf of bread behind you, dear. Nothing better for the sick than warm stew and fresh baked bread. I'll get you a tray."

Isabelle's eyes flicked about the kitchen; it was large enough to feed twenty grown men. "Do you work down here alone?"

"No," Myra said. "This house is fully staffed-there's about ten of us, plus two gardeners, and a horse master- but I'm the only one who lives here. Just me and Archer."

"Archer?" asked Isabelle, turning around and taking the tray of food and soup Myra offered her.

"My son," she said, and her eyes were shadowed. "Here, take this to you brother and make sure he eats it all; he'll need his strength soon. I'll come by your room wake you tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Myra" Isabelle said, and she meant it.

"Take the servants' stair straight up to the attic," she said, pointing back to the stairs they had used. "I took water and tea up there an hour ago, and he was still asleep. Come for me if you need something; I live off the kitchens."

Isabelle balanced the tray in one hand, shook Myra's with the other, and then took the stairs two at a time. It was time she saw Alec.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

_**Clary**_

"How well can you behave yourself, Clarissa?" asked Valentine, turning Clary's chin from side to side to get a better view of her face. Clary's eyes were dazed from dehydration and starvation, her skin was translucent, and she no longer had the strength to fight her father. "I'm pleased to say that I've brought Jace home, and your mother has taken to him swimmingly. He's the perfect distraction, the perfect child for her to love; you realize what this means for you?"

_Don't listen…he's lying to you again, he's always lying to you…_Clary opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she didn't give a damn what he said, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a rasping breath. Valentine smiled piteously down on her, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was enjoying this.

"You're in a tight spot, so to speak," Valentine continued evenly. "Your mother is more than happy to go on loving Jace, doting on him, caring for him; she doesn't need you at all."

Clary felt small tears prick at her eyes, but she held them back. "…she _loves_ me…" she managed to croak.

Valentine shook his head. "No, Clary, she barely even asks about you. Since I've given her Jace, she is more than content, and what do you expect? He is charming, talented, handsome; Jace is everything a mother wants in a child." Valentine ran his large hand down Clary's arm and grasped her hand in his. His grip was painful to Clary, and she tried to jerk away, but he squeezed tighter until Clary felt spasms of pain race up her arm. "Your life, Clarissa, is completely in my hands; no one but me cares for you anymore, and I hardly do at that. If you want to leave this place, you're going to have to play nice."

Clary narrowed her eyes at Valentine and tried to find her voice, but nothing could come out. She tried a bit of thrashing, but it was weak, and she barely had the strength to lift her torso. Valentine watched his daughter's display with a bit of amusement, and then, very suddenly, took the glass of water he was going to give her and poured it over her face. Clary gasped and sputtered, distantly aware that that was the only water she was going to get.

"Don't make a scene, Clarissa, it's embarrassing." Valentine reached down and wiped the water out of Clary's eyes because her hands were still painfully bound. "If you want to leave this place, you're going to have to convince me you're ready for it. Can you do that, Clarissa?"

Clary bared her teeth and spat a bit of the water out of her mouth. After a minute of silence where Clary breathed heavily and Valentine watched her dispassionately, she lifted her gaze to his and blinked-the only way she could show she was listening. _Just give him what he wants, just play along. He's got your mom captive, _and _he's got Jace. The Angel only knows what he's done to them._

"So, you're willing to be a good girl, are you?" he asked, examining her. "You're not in very good shape are you, Clarissa? Look at this," he said, rolling her shirt up and getting a good view of her stomach. It was bloated from lack of food, and there were a number of vivid bruises that hadn't healed. "And you're legs and arms," Clary felt panic rise up in her chest as she saw his hand move from hers and up to her forearm. "They're frail enough to snap. You're certainly in no condition to start training, and I certainly have no desire to waste _my time_ healing you."

_Whatever happens next, don't scream, don't scream, _don't _scream!_ Clary could feel Valentine's fingers clamp down like a vice, and she knew pain would be coming swiftly. _Jace wouldn't scream, he'd be brave and silent and strong._

"Perhaps your mother might…but she's so busy with Jace now, I don't know how she'll manage." Valentine almost sounded like he was sad about this. Almost. "And, by the look of it, I need to start training you immediately if we're to have hope. Do you have a solution?"

Clary watched his hand resting on her arm. She could feel energy coursing through his hands and onto her arm, and she knew that he was going to break it. Slowly, helplessly, Clary shook her head.

"No?" Valentine asked, and Clary looked down. "Ah, well, then…" And then Valentine tightened his grip painfully until her arm snapped. Even though she was almost completely immobile, even though she didn't have the strength to lift her head, she screamed.

_**Jace**_

Dinner had been an abysmal affair and Jace longed for the cold comfort of his room. Jonathan had watched him, his expression alternating between a self-satisfied smirk and a very hungry look. He seemed half ready to lunge across the table and throttle the life of Jace, but then, thinking Jace was more miserable being alive, settling for watching him squirm. Valentine had carried on a lively conversation, primarily with Jocelyn and Jonathan, about the state of the Clave and the shadowhunters. From what Jace had heard, most of the Clave had drunk from the Cup and been marked with loyalty and obedience runes; there was still confusion while people fell into their roles, but it seemed to be working itself out. Jace guessed the obedience runes were making the transition smooth. Dinner ended with pound cake and chocolate ice cream, and Jace stared down at it as if it were the strangest thing he had ever seen.

"Is something wrong, Jace?" Jocelyn asked politely from one head of the table.

Jace almost jumped at the sound of her voice. "What?"

"Is there something wrong with the cake, Jace?" Valentine clarified, smiling just a little at Jocelyn. He seemed very pleased that Jocelyn had taken to Jace so quickly.

"No, I just…I haven't eaten ice cream from Idris is a while," he said quickly, and he saw Valentine's eyebrows rise at the lie. Jocelyn, however, didn't seem to notice-or pretended not to-and so Valentine forgave him the lie.

As Jace ate, Jonathan cleared his throat and fixed Jace with his dark, glowing eyes. "So, how do you like your room, little brother?"

_Little brother? _"It's bigger than my room at the Institute, but a little bare, especially where clothing is concerned." _Perfectly bland and empty, Valentine can't complain about that._

Jonathan pounced. "Well, you can barrow some of my old things, can't you? After all, you're wearing my old shirts and pants."

The food in Jace's mouth turned to ash, and he almost turned an accusatory look on Valentine, but an order shook through his body. _DON'T PROTEST._ Jace finished the mouthful and swallowed loudly. "I didn't know you were so fond of color."

Jonathan shrugged carelessly. "Whatever suits me-well…whatever suits you. I'll let you look through my closet. I take it you need something to sleep in?"

_You smug bastard,_ Jace thought. "Please."

Jonathan had victory in his grip. "You can just stop by my room; I'm across the hall from you."

"Whose room is next to mine, then?" Jace asked, and seeing Valentine's eyes dart to Jocelyn, he knew he's landed a blow.

"It belongs to my daughter," Valentine said stiffly, watching Jocelyn's eyes drop. Jace knew he was going to live to regret that, since it had caused Jocelyn discomfort and his main purpose in life now was to make her happy, but he couldn't bear Jonathan being pleased.

"It's empty," Jace pressed, and would have said more had a command not ended it with a resounding _SILENCE_.

"Not for long," Valentine said with relish, and then pushed his plate away. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to step out for just a bit-some quick work on the Clave. Jonathan, take Jace upstairs and get him settled and ready for bed. Jocelyn," he crossed the room and kissed her cheek before brushing another kiss on her lips, "I'll see you soon."

"I'll wait up," she said, and caught Jace's eye from across the table. "I'll even check in on little Jace before I retire."

"Totally unnecessary, Mother," Jonathan said smoothly, rising and waving Jace over. "I'll see that my little brother is well cared for and comfortable. Come, Jace, let's GET you settled."

Jace didn't really want to leave with Jonathan; even though he wasn't quite sure how he felt about Jocelyn, her company was much preferred to Jonathan's. It didn't matter, though, as Valentine was giving him the very strict order _GO_. Jace rose slowly, pushed his chair in, and said goodnight to both Jocelyn and Valentine. Anything to buy time. However, there was no way to escape Jonathan's waiting hand, and when Jace went to join him, Jonathan draped his arm over Jace's shoulder in a brotherly way. A surge of hate overcame Jace; Alec was his _only _brother.

"What are you playing at?" Jonathan asked as he and Jace went back up the stairs to the bedrooms. "A bit afraid, are we?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Jace snapped back, and then paused, thinking. "I'm your parabatai whether you like it or not. That means you can't kill me."

Jonathan's face was ugly. "Maybe I don't want to kill you, maybe I think you're suffering more because you're alive. Now, please, come inside and find something to wear. I'm sure we can find you _something_." Jonathan was taking too much pleasure in Jace's dependence on him. Jace wanted desperately to cross the hall to his room and slam the door in Jonathan's face, but Jonathan tossed open his door and gave Jace a shove inside. "So, tell me, do you like your new home? I trust it's better than that hole you lived in with the Lightwoods."

"Don't talk to me about them," Jace hissed, watching Jonathan throw open a set a drawers and pull out a set of sweat pants. Jace caught them deftly when Jonathan tossed them at him. "You're sick, you and Valentine."

"Careful, little brother," Jonathan said softly. "Your life in this household can become very ugly very quickly. Just because you're Jocelyn's _pet _doesn't mean you actually have any standing. My father let you live only because he wanted to make his wife happy. You're just a stand in for me, and a poor one, at that."

Jace ground his teeth. "He knows Jocelyn hates you. He's just trying to hide you from her so she doesn't think less of him."

Jonathan's smile slipped and he crossed the room in a moment, throwing Jace against the wall. "I'm his son, I'm the one who will follow in his footsteps when he's gone, and then you'll see, won't you?" Jace squirmed a bit in Jonathan's grip, and Jonathan gave him a shake. "You'll see."

Jace met his eyes, wondering if Jonathan was going to strike him, but as he waited and Jonathan just frowned at him, he realized Jonathan wasn't going to hurt him. "Must feel so strange for you, having a parabatai?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing, Jace, seeing as you're bound to an _actual _shadowhunter. I hardly think that Lightwood brat counts, given what he is." Jonathan offered up an angelic smile.

"Don't talk about him," Jace said dangerously; he didn't think he could bear the raw pain of Alec's loss. "Now let me go before _mommy_ come calling. What would she say if she saw you hurting her dear, little _angel_ boy?"

Jonathan tossed Jace with unnecessary force toward the door and he stumbled through it. "I'll see you soon, Jace," Jonathan called after him as he crossed the hall and flung himself into his new room.

Jace took a long moment to gather himself, and sat down on the bed, taking deep breaths. The loss of Alec was still a physical pain, still an aching in his chest he couldn't make go away. Even though Jonathan had taken Alec's place, it didn't offer Jace the same kind of fulfillment it had before. His connection, when he tested it, was like a throbbing, burning sensation, and it turned his stomach. He missed Alec, it was that simple.

_Pull yourself together. You know Valentine is not through with you, you know he has more orders for you, more rules._ Jace sighed and stripped off his shirt and pants-Jonathan's shirts and pants-and flung them carelessly aside before wriggling into the pajamas.

For a little while, Jace sat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking over his current situation. It wasn't good. Valentine had a strong hold on him, and not just because of the runes. He had convinced Jocelyn that she had to love him if she wanted Clary back, so he had to deal with Jocelyn's almost manic ministrations-something Jace was loathe to do. It wasn't that he didn't like Jocelyn, she seemed nice enough; no, it was that he simply wasn't accustomed to having a mother fawn over him. He felt awkward and uncomfortable having Jocelyn constantly around him, touching his hair and shoulders, smiling constantly, speaking in her soft, protective voice. Jocelyn made him feel like child.

_Well, as far as Valentine is concerned, you are. He just wants you to be an object she can care for, something she can love in place of her son. _Jace flushed and leaned back. _Jocelyn did mention Clary to you, what did she say…? You'll take good care of her. She meant in the future. _It was the only small consolation Jace got from that entire evening: he was going to see Clary and Jocelyn wanted him to. _As long as Jocelyn wants it, I'm sure Valentine will allow it._

Jace's thoughts now turned to Clary and where she might be. Jocelyn hadn't seen her, so wherever Valentine had locked her up, she'd been there for a little over a week. Fear clamped down on Jace's throat like a vice and he longed for the feeling of Clary in his arms, if only to know she was safe. Now that he and Clary weren't siblings, it was okay for him to…to love her. Jace was shocked with his admission. Yes, he loved Clary, and it was okay. It was okay to love Clary.

"You look quite comfortable," said Valentine from the door, studying Jace lying on the bed. "Have you discovered you enjoy yourself here?"

Jace's eyes turned on Valentine. "Where's Clary?"

Valentine raised an eyebrow. "She's being dealt with, but I'm pleased to say I just had a nice chat with her. She has submitted to my will. She knows now how hopeless her situation is, and how dependent upon me she is."

_Submitted to my will? _Jace shuddered. He had _submitted_ to Valentine will only under sheer force or pain. "What have you done to her?"

"Nothing she won't recover from," he shrugged, and then entered the room. "Much like yourself. There are some things, Jace, that you and I need to discuss this evening; some arrangements I'd like to make with you."

Jace didn't like the look in his eyes; it wasn't hungry, it was just contemplative, assessing. He had designs for Jace. "Make arrangements with your slave?" he laughed. "That's sounds a bit odd, don't you think?"

"Jocelyn is very happy with you," Valentine said as if Jace hadn't spoken. "She likes having you around, she thinks you're sweet and entertaining."

"Well, you know me. Always entertaining for the ladies."

Valentine stood before Jace now, looking down on him. "I would like for you to continue entertaining her, giving her something to do, someone to care for while Jonathan and I are called away on other business. It won't be too difficult, I think, since you'll just need to stay with her, indulge her, keep her busy."

Jace frowned; there had been something disconcerting about Valentine's words. "I hope you have a bunch of board games ready."

"Well," said Valentine, smiling slightly, "I had other plans for you. While I don't deny you would certainly be pleasurable company on your own, I think there is something more…more serious. Something that might distract her from my absence." Jace watched him closely, waiting for him to strike; Valentine turned to the doorway and called out, "Jonathan!"

_This isn't going to go well, _Jace thought fleetingly before Jonathan came in, and he felt Valentine's command _LIE DOWN_. Jace leaned back, his head resting uncomfortably on his pillow, and his body stiff. Jonathan approached from the other side of the room, closing the door with a snap; when he stood over Jace, his eyes gleamed, but in their depths, Jace saw mild confusion.

"Jocelyn really does need something to keep her occupied, so I thought we might start with something every mother encounters in her life." Valentine drew the blankets up over Jace, tucking him in to his chin. "Let me state this simply: Jonathan is going to beat you, hard enough to leave prominent bruises, and then tomorrow morning, when Jocelyn comes to wake you, you will tell her how you hurt yourself. You will tell her how much pain you're in, how humiliated you are, how ashamed, and then ask her to take care of you."

Something of Jace's shock must have shone on his face because Jonathan laughed. "That's all you're good for, Jace, being a living, breathing, toy doll."

"You can't torture me just to make Jocelyn happy," Jace breathed, and he began straining against Valentine's command. If he was going to be attacked, he wasn't going to take it lying on his back.

"It's not torture," Valentine sniffed, "because you're not really a person, are you? You're nothing but an animal I took in to keep myself and those around me occupied. You helped me complete my disguise as Michael Wayland in your youth, you're giving Jocelyn something to love when she can't have her children, and you will be Clary's reward when she finally rejoins this family. Over all, Jace, your entire life is simply that of a stand-in, a distraction, nothing _real_."

Jace bared his teeth in a snarl. "If I'm so useless, why not just kill me?"

"Jace," Valentine cooed, and he caressed Jace's cheeks, "you're not useless, just unimportant. Now, I think you will find that in these cases, it's best to focus on breathing. I'm asking you not to scream; I don't want Jocelyn hearing you. Jonathan, would you like to begin?"

Jace saw Jonathan move into his line of sight, and he tensed, preparing for the blow he knew was about to come. He met Jonathan's eyes, wondering if his parabatai would even balk at the order to beat him. There was no mercy in Jonathan's eyes. "Should I break any of his ribs, father?"

"I think that's appropriate," Valentine agreed, and then gestured to Jace.

_DON'T SCREAM_. Jace heard the order like a drum beat in his head, and he ground his teeth together just in time to feel the back on Jonathan's hand connect with his cheek. Spots shone behind Jace's eyes and he feat tears forming that he forced back. He shook his head to clear himself, but it only proved painful because Jonathan brought his fist and forearm down on Jace's stomach once, twice, three times, and on the third time, he heard a rib crack under the force. A gasp slipped through his lips and his eyes darted to Valentine, who bowed his head; he hadn't cared _that _much. Jonathan landed a few more painful blows, this time on his legs; for a fleeting moment, Jace was worried Jonathan was trying to break his femur, but he moved on to his foot, where he smiled ruefully. Jace knew what he had in mind, and his toes curled.

"A broken ankle or a broken knee?" he asked Valentine, and Valentine pointed to Jace's foot. Jonathan grinned and, without even looking at what he was doing, applied ample pressure to Jace's ankle until he heard the snapping sound. "You really should be more careful, little brother; you hurt yourself so easy."

Jace's body was shaking against his will, the broken rib and broken ankle stinging unpleasantly. He shot a dark look at Valentine from under his eyelashes. "So, what exactly has this accomplished?"

"I didn't accomplish anything," Valentine said, feigning surprise. "_You _did this to yourself. You're a very sentimental boy, Jace, and you missed your parents-the Lightwoods-so much, that last night, you tried to sneak out of the house to see them. You climbed out the window and onto the tree, but, unfortunately, you're not so nimble or graceful as you'd like, and the branch below you snapped. You fell two stories, breaking two bones and bruising yourself horribly. Ashamed, you spent the entire night crawling back through the house and up the stairs to your room."

Jace's mouth hung open and Jonathan snorted. "Funny, I must have hit my head and suffered a bout of amnesia too."

"You will tell Jocelyn this story, and then ask her to take care of you," said Valentine smugly. "I think she will be most sympathetic to your situation."

"If I don't slip and mention the part where Jonathan broke my rib!" Jace spat back, his shaking now due to rage. "I'm not going to moan and whine to her about how much pain I'm in. I'm not gonna cry-"

"Yes, you will," said Valentine firmly. "You'll cry and groan and wince and cringe and anything else Jocelyn wants you to do. Be aware, Jace, that if you play your part sufficiently and put on a good show for Jocelyn, I'll reunite you with Clarissa."

Jace, who had been on the verge of another crude comment, felt the sarcasm dry up in his throat. "What have you done with Clary? Jocelyn wants her back, she told me so herself!"

"She needs to know her place," Valentine shrugged, "and though she has given in, I need her to understand just how much she is in my power-and that is absolutely."

"If you let me talk to her-"

"I'm afraid that can't happen until I'm satisfied with your own temperament," Valentine said swiftly. "I only have time to deal with one renegade child."

"Please, I can help you with her!" Jace said desperately. "You won't need to hurt her if you just let me have a few minutes, I swear, I can help you-"

"I'm not interested," said Valentine. "No, I'm only interested in you spinning this story for Jocelyn tomorrow morning. So, practice your tears and helpless faces."

"And perhaps the word _mommy_," Jonathan sneered. "I think she'd like to hear that, don't you think, father? Mom is too modern, too derisive, and mother is too formal. But _mommy_, yes I think she might like it."

Jace flushed furiously. "She's not my mother!"

"She is now," Valentine warned, "and you'll treat her like one if you ever want to see Clarissa again. Now, I think Jonathan is quite right, Jace, so make sure to embellish your tale with a few endearments of the sort."

_Oh, I can think of a few endearments,_ Jace thought furiously, but he knew it didn't matter how many names he called Valentine and Jonathan. They still had Clary and he still had to play along. Jace moved uncomfortably, trying to find a place that didn't ignite pain in his ribs. "Okay, fine, whatever; I'll tell her what you want."

Valentine smiled, pleased with himself. "Just make sure it sounds real; I'm sure the pain is real enough. Come, Jonathan, we've a few arrangements to make concerning young Clarissa."

Jace wanted to ask what plans they had for Clary, but they moved swiftly to the door where Jonathan flicked the light off and closed the door with a snap. Jace was left to lie in the dark, brewing in his fear for Clary, his humiliation at the coming morning, and the faintly throbbing pain in his side and ankle. It was hard to move, as Valentine hadn't released Jace from his command, and he struggled with it for almost an hour. After that, he settled for lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling or out the window at the stars and dreading the morning and Jocelyn's arrival.

Admittedly, he did get a few hours of sleep, but not enough to ignore the knocking on his door the following morning. Jace groaned, rolled over very carefully, and then peeked out from under the blankets. Jocelyn knocked again, Jace groaned louder, and this time the door creaked open and Jocelyn's pretty green eyes peered in. When she saw Jace staring at her, she opened wide the door and came in cautiously.

"Jace," she said softly, "I'm making breakfast, do you like eggs and pancakes?"

Jace, for his part, loved eggs and pancakes, but his stomach had dissolved into painful fits over the night due to his broken rib. He didn't quite have the nerve-or lack thereof-to begin spinning his tale, so instead he nodded faintly and sank a bit into the blankets like he were ill. Jocelyn drew closer to Jace's bed, her eyes raking his prostrate form.

"Is something wrong, you don't look well," she said, and placed the back of her hand on Jace's cheek. "You don't have a fever, but you're pale as a ghost. Jace, what happened?"

Jace shook his head. _Just swallow your pride, Jace, and tell her what he said. _Jace drew a deep breath. "You can't tell Valentine," he began, thinking that might raise her concern and interest. "He'll be furious if he knew."

Jocelyn's face fell. "If he asks, Jace, I can't lie; he'll know and then he'll punish Clary. But, I'll do my best to protect you from him. He loves me, he wants me to be happy."

_Just what I need, _Jace thought, grinding his teeth, _to have Jocelyn think I need her protection. _"I miss my family, you know, the Lightwoods."

"Well, Jace, I'm sure once everything settles down I can convince Valentine to let you see-"

"Not now," Jace said quickly. "I tried to go see them last night, I tried to sneak out of the house to visit them. I was going to use the tree outside my window to climb down but the branch I was on broke and I…fell." _That's a bit lame, don't you think?_

Jocelyn, however, didn't think it was lame at all. "Jace, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need something?" Before Jace could say much more, Jocelyn grabbed the blankets and dragged them off his body. She saw the awkward way he held himself, and how he curled up in on himself, his hands wrapped about his ribs. "Look at the bruises on you!"

"Don't touch them!" he said sharply, clutching at his ribs.

"Jace," she said gently, sitting on the bed and placing her warm, flat palm on his ribs. "Let me help you; I won't tell Valentine-"

"Tell me what?" said Valentine from the door, his eyes alighting on Jace's face. "Jocelyn, what's going on?"

Jocelyn was momentarily lost for words. She had to tell Valentine, unless she wanted Clary to suffer, but she couldn't just leave Jace to face his wrath. "It's not Jace's fault," she said simply.

Valentine drew into the room, smiling pleasantly. "Clearly."

Jocelyn positioned herself carefully before Jace, making it very clear that she didn't want Jace hurt. Jace had to hand it to her, she was a lot braver than most of the shadowhunters he'd met. "He misses his family, Valentine, and he wanted to see them."

Valentine's eyes spotted the ugly bruises and swollen ankle. "And he hurt himself how?"

Jocelyn looked down and caught Jace's hand. "He just missed his family," she said softly. "Jace tried to leave the house last night-climbing out the tree-and fell. He's hurt, and I don't think hurting him more will help," she added swiftly.

Valentine was pleased with the urgency in Jocelyn's voice. He held up his hands. "Have no fear, Jocelyn, I'm not going to hurt him-he's certainly learned his lesson. Besides, the boy is used to pain, he was a very accident prone child."

_Accident prone?_ Jace thought viciously. _The only accident I ever made was trusting you._

"I wouldn't be too surprised if he fell down a few stairs, or off his horse, or even slipped in the tub." Valentine's eyes met Jace's and they were sparkling maliciously. "We'll just have to keep an eye on him, won't we?"

_Falling down the stairs? I guess that'll be the next accident I have to explain the bruises. _"Babysitting me today?" Jace asked.

"No, I'm afraid I can't," Valentine said curtly, flicking his gaze over him. "I've a bit of business to attend to, but this evening, I'd like to speak with you. We have a certain issue I think it's time we dealt with."

Jace knew he meant Clary, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. At his side, Jocelyn relaxed ever so slightly. "I'll stay with him, Valentine," Jocelyn offered. "I don't mind spending the day taking care of Jace. It'll be perfect time for us to talk and get to know each other."

"Indeed," Valentine smirked, and then bowed his head to Jace. "Until this evening, Jace."

**So, I thought I would just let everyone know that I'm back at my university and my classes have started up. This _shouldn't_ effect my writing schedule, but, if the next chapter comes up a little late, it's just me getting back into the swing of things. Thanks for reading! **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

_**Alec**_

It was the sound of heavy breathing that woke Alec, that, and the warmth radiating off an alien body. He rolled over carefully, more for his own comfort than fear of alerting his guest, and squinted through his lids. At first, all he saw was a mass of black, and he thought faintly that he had somehow ended up sleeping beside a werewolf.

_Or, Magnus has seriously updated his hair style._

Alec smiled grimly and opened his eyes fully. The mess of black fur turned out not to be fur at all, but instead, the long black hair of Isabelle Lightwood, and it was her heavy, sleep breathing, that had awoken him. Gently, Alec prodded Isabelle in the small of her back, and she stirred, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _Simon_.

"Izzy," he croaked. "Izzy, wake up…"

Maybe it was just because Alec was there and Isabelle had always been so close with her siblings, but she jerked suddenly into wakefulness, sitting up and turning about to stare down at Alec. Her mouth opened wide, like she were about to say something both loud and endearing, but the words evaded her and she flung herself at him in a warm embrace.

"_Alec_!" she rasped. "I've been _so_ worried about you. When Valentine severed you and Jace, and you didn't wake up, and then Malachi took us here and said he'd thrown you in the attic…" Isabelle kissed both his cheeks, clutching him very close. "I thought you were going to-not going to make it, and I can't do this alone, Alec, I just can't."

Isabelle's words poured into Alec, confusion and pain mingling to leave him looking faintly lost. "Malachi?" he finally asked.

Isabelle sat back, still holding one of Alec's hands. "He's the one who adopted us-on Valentine's orders, of course. After you passed out, Valentine had his cronies drag us out and he came and picked us up. I guess he's still the Counsel, and a bunch of other important things now, and we're stuck in his care."

Alec ignored the mention of his passing out, mostly because he didn't want to consider what had _caused _him to feint. "Why did Malachi want us?"

"It was on Valentine's orders; I don't think he wants us running underfoot, you know?" Isabelle hadn't met his eyes, and Alec sensed she was holding something back. "He thinks we're going to cause problems, try and start a rebellion or something. This way, Valentine can keep his most trusted servant's eyes on us."

"Just what I wanted," Alec shrugged, and rolled onto his back. He was still sore all over, it felt like he'd just recovered from a bout of flu and then been beaten soundly. There was sharp pain that radiated from his arm, to his shoulders and the base of his spine, and it left him with jerking muscle spasms and a pounding headache. This was coupled with a stomach turning nausea that constantly threatened to make him vomit. The rest of his body was just sore from the strained muscles, and he recognized the first stirrings of hunger. "Is there something to eat?"

Isabelle slapped her head. "Of course! Myra told me to get food in you the moment I got up here, but you were still sleeping and I was so tired…Here, I've got chicken noodle soup and bread."

Alec struggled to sit, but Isabelle promptly came and helped him up. She stirred the soup while Alec watched her. "Why are you taking care of me? Is _Myra_ not up to it?" he asked.

Isabelle's eyes definitely didn't meet his this time, and Alec knew it. "She's the housekeeper, very busy."

"Izzy," Alec said, and managed to grip her arm, albeit, very weakly. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Eat first," she said sternly, and held up a spoon full of steaming stew. Alec obliged her for a few minutes, and then caught her gaze again. Isabelle ran a hand through her messy hair. "Malachi told me he doesn't really _want _you; he thought he was just going to get me. He said that you're going to be placed in my care, and I'm not exactly in the position to argue with him."

_If he only wants my sister, he's got another thing coming,_ Alec thought darkly. "What's he said to you?"

Isabelle stared down at the soup in her hands. "Only that I'm not to be trained anymore."

Alec's mouth fell open. "He said _what?_"

Isabelle's lip was trembling and Alec was horrified to see that there were tears welling in her eyes. He had _never_ seen Isabelle cry-except when Max had died-and he realized just how deeply this was disturbing her. "He said that he didn't believe in women being trained as warriors. I'm going to begin training as a…housewife." She said the last word with such disgust it sounded like a curse.

Alec knew how passionate Isabelle had been about hunting, fighting, anything that involved sharp weapons, and to hear that she was being stripped of the one thing that had made her happy, drew out of Alec something that might be considered muted outrage. He wanted to be angry for Isabelle, he _wanted _to be furious, but for some reason, he couldn't feel the necessary emotions.

_What's wrong with me? _Alec wondered, staring down at himself. _Look at me, I'm useless, I'm worthless, life is wasted on me. My sister is practically a slave, and here I am, lying in bed. _Alec felt his himself sink lower and lower, and suddenly a wash of memories overcame him. _I just stood there while Valentine split me and Jace, while he took away my brother and best friend. I just let him! I don't fight, I don't struggle, I don't do anything. I just stand to side and let everyone I love suffer…_ As if it weren't enough, Alec carefully probed the raw spot in his mind where Jace's presence once lingered, and felt a horribly, painful throbbing sensation. It burned through his body and ignited a seizure in his spine. Unable to control it, Alec starting jerking wildly.

"Alec!" Isabelle cried, and she took Alec's shoulders and held him fast. He continued shaking, twisting, and gasping for breath. "Alec, what's wrong?"

"I-I-I-" Alec couldn't even speak he was shaking so badly. The seizures went on for almost five complete minutes and all Isabelle could do was help Alec lie down and wait for it to end. Alec was reduced to a small, prostrate figure, covered in sweat and panting.

"What happened?" Isabelle asked gently, finding a bath towel folding in a small cupboard and wiping his face clean.

"I tried to test the-the connection between me and Jace," he said weakly, panting. "You saw what happened…"

Isabelle sighed and rested her head against Alec's. "You have to be _careful_, Alec. I was scared you were going to die when you were split, and now…Alec I can't be alone here." Isabelle curled up beside Alec and he weakly reached an arm out and draped it behind her.

"I'm not going to leave you, Izzy," he said firmly. "I'm still your older brother, and I'm still here to protect you. Believe me."

Isabelle closed her eyes and sank down into the blankets. She considered herself, and where she had been only a month before; she didn't think her past self would believe that she'd be sleeping in the same bed as her ailing brother, terrified of the morning, and wishing she could be anywhere else. Lying beside Alec, listening to his heart beat, she tried to sleep. "I believe you."

_**Luke**_

"You're not looking too well, Lucian," said Valentine, seated across from the crumpled form of his former parabatai on a bench. He watched the unresponsive figure, the weak rising and falling of the lungs, and the muscles twitching in his semi-conscious state. "Perhaps I could bring you some bread, or does your kind prefer raw flesh?"

The jib about food ignited just enough anger in Luke for him to respond. When Valentine finished speaking, Luke flexed his clawed hands and then launched himself at Valentine. It was only the chains that bound Luke that saved Valentine's life, but Luke's claws scythed the air, three of them caught Valentine, slicing through his dress shirt. Valentine gave a furious cry and stood up, eyes gleaming.

"I'll take _your_ flesh, Valentine!" Luke snarled. He showed his teeth-all sharp and pointed like a wolf's-and grinned.

Valentine narrowed his gaze at Luke. "You'll take nothing of the sort, Lucian, not while you're in chains you won't."

Luke stood up to his full height and eyed Valentine with mounting hate. "Why are you here, Valentine? Don't you have some poor, helpless, children to subjugate?"

"Subjugating children?" Valentine smirked. "I would never dream of it. You have so many false ideas of me; where did they come from? You certainly never felt this way when we were young."

"It's been a while since we were young," Luke said indifferently. "Recently, though, you have been cutting quite a path of destruction, one I can't say I'd be too proud of."

"Careful, Lucian," Valentine said.

"Or what?" Luke shot back. "What more can you possibly do to me? You've taken my pack and done who knows what with them, you took Jocelyn, you took Clary, and you locked me in a cell so far below ground I can't even _remember_ seeing daylight. You've not left me much to be afraid of."

Valentine's face had remained impassive to most of Luke's outburst, but the mention of Jocelyn and Clary had brought a furious gleam to his eyes. "My wife and daughter are mine to do with as I choose. Regardless of the fact that you implemented yourself into Jocelyn's life, you will certainly not remain there long."

Luke growled. "What have you done with them?"

"Nothing," Valentine said with a twisted smile, "but made them happy. I have given Jocelyn everything she ever wanted: a house, a family, and, most importantly, her _son_. She is all but in love with me again."

"Your lying never really got to me," Luke sniffed. "I find it hard to believe that Jocelyn forgave you for killing her son."

"You think I speak of Jonathan," Valentine smirked.

"You're not?" Even Luke was confused.

Valentine smiled. "You met Jace, didn't you?"

Luke frowned. "What have you done to that poor boy now, Valentine?"

"I didn't know you'd come to care for the boy," Valentine said, amusement in his eyes.

"What did you expect? You destroyed his childhood and spent the last few months driving him mad. He's still only a child-"

"I didn't destroy his childhood."

"You treated him like an animal!" Luke snapped. "It didn't take a doctor to see the broken soul. How badly did you treat him? How many times did you hit him? How much did you scare him?"

Valentine frowned. "I raised him to be the best shadowhunter he could be, the best second only to Jonathan. He's the perfect son now."

"What are you doing with him?" Luke's eyes narrowed. "Hurting Clary, no doubt."

"_Clarissa_," Valentine said, annoyed at her nick name, "is perfectly fine, though I do think she'll behave herself given that I control her mother and Jace."

"Is that what you're doing with Jace? Using him to control Clary?" Luke was seething, and all he could think of was Clary's face, small, pale, and wide-eyed when she looked to him for help. "You've reached a new low, Valentine, if you have to threaten your daughter with her boyfriend."

This seemed to irk Valentine, and he drew a few steps closer. "I'm not here to discuss my parenting with you, Lucian-"

"I hardly call you a parent," Luke cut in.

"I am here because there's the small matter of your continued existence to deal with," said Valentine. "While I would very much like to kill you, I think Jocelyn would be upset if I executed you in public, and I have no intention of upsetting her just after we reconciled. So, this leaves an interesting conundrum."

"You've been executing Downworlders?" he asked, his mind racing to Simon.

Valentine must have known where his thoughts were at. "Well, not all of them. Some will serve a better purpose than a corpse, so, like you, I have them restrained in the Gard. But I'm planning on moving you all soon; I think somewhere nice and dark, but first-" Valentine's eyes moved up and down Luke again, as if trying to see something that wasn't there "-I need you to talk to Jocelyn. She respects you, trusts your judgment." This he said grudgingly, and Luke was pleased by how much it pained him to say it.

"I promise you, Valentine, that anything I have to tell Jocelyn would not help your cause," Luke snorted.

"You're going to tell her what I want," Valentine said simply.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because," said Valentine smoothly, "I'll let you see my daughter one last time before I remove you. I'll let you have your little moment with the brat, and I'll fix her up beforehand. I'll admit," Valentine smirked, "Clarissa is not in good order, a bit banged up."

Luke growled low in his throat. "What have you done to her?"

"Nothing she won't recover from-" he paused, thoughtful "-if I set to work soon. If not, those broken bones might not set right."

Luke refrained from lunging at Valentine, but he felt a tremor work in his hand. _Don't rise to it, don't let him know. _"Jocelyn won't be happy if you bring her daughter back to her in pieces."

"That's where you're going to come in," said Valentine. "I'll bring Jocelyn to meet you, and you'll tell her that you think she's better off with me. Make her believe it's right to be with me."

Luke shivered. "I'm not going to do that."

"Then I'll leave Clarissa right where she it, and I don't think the poor girl can hold much longer."

_Whatever else he is, you know Valentine's always been a man of his word. If he says Clary is in danger, than she must be. _"Just because I tell Jocelyn something doesn't mean she'll believe it. She's always been strong willed; you'll only be able to convince her if you go through with your promises. Give her back Clary."

"Tell her that you think I'm a good man," Valentine said swiftly. "Tell her you trust me to take care of her and her children, and then, I'll give her back her daughter. She'll see then that you were right about me."

Luke shook his head. "I can't make Jocelyn love you again, Valentine."

Valentine grinned. "Just make her trust me; you did it when were younger, you can do it again. Besides, you're not going to risk Clarissa's life for all this?"

"Clary is your blood, and you're willing to kill her over this?" Luke snapped. It was one thing to taunt him, but to hurt Clary was another. "Jocelyn will _hate _you if you hurt Clary."

"_Clarissa _won't have to suffer anymore if you just do as I say," Valentine said, annoyed. "It doesn't matter much to me either way. You see, I've given Jocelyn back her son, so to speak."

Luke continued to stare at Valentine, reading his face as best he could. "Jace," he said.

Valentine bowed his head. "Yes, the boy is serving his purpose well; Jocelyn is happy with him."

"You replaced Jonathan with Jace," Luke observed. "You destroyed his family, you took him captive, you ruined his life, and all because you wanted to make Jocelyn _like _you?"

"It worked," Valentine shrugged. "She's content with him, but I'm willing to spare Clarissa if you'll say what I want you to. She doesn't have to die."

Luke ran a hand thoughtfully through his hair, but no matter how he tried to think it through, it all ended with Clary either dying at his refusal or him telling Jocelyn how good a man Valentine was. _All this time you think it over, Clary is suffering. Stop biding your time, stop wishing you could have had Jocelyn, and do what a father is supposed to. _"I'll tell her what you want, Valentine, but it doesn't mean Jocelyn will love you."

_**Clary**_

It seemed like things couldn't get much worse than they were at that point: Clary's arm was broken so badly that she couldn't move the fingers on her right arm, her body was too weak to move from days and days of no food, and her throat was so dry she couldn't speak anymore, just make small, rasping noises. In the dark, Clary couldn't see where she was or even guess how long she had been there; she hoped it had been days and that someone was coming for her, but she couldn't know. She knew only darkness and pain and that raw fear. Hopelessness, too, had begun to set in, and with it came very cruel whispers.

_So, Valentine didn't lie, you really are completely in his care, _she thought despairingly. _He gives you food, he gives you water, he can free you, and it seems like he's not coming back for you. _Clary shuddered.

She had given up fighting and was now resting, barely breathing, just lying on her back and thinking of light and the sun and the feel of the wind on her face when Clary heard a door open. She jerked, unable to lift her head very high, and cringed when light hit her face. A small whine escaped her gag and she wondered what Valentine had come for now.

"Clary?" She knew that voice, and it wasn't Valentine. "Clary, where are you?"

_Jace!_ _Jace, I'm here, help me!_ Unfortunately, the only sound that came from Clary's mouth was a breathless grunt. It was enough though, because Jace fumbled with something-a witchlight-and the room was suddenly thrown into a blaze of light. It was too much, and it blinded Clary, so she closed her eyes, but the next moment she felt hands on her face. Gentle hands, careful hands, hands that caressed and stroked.

"Clary, oh god, Clary," Jace whispered, rubbing her cheeks and tearing the gag free from her mouth. "What happened?"

Clary couldn't speak, and instead she made a plaintive, gasping sound, resting her head in his hand. Jace knew then that Clary didn't have the ability to speak, and instead, he focused on the runes that bound her wrists and ankles; they were days old, and glowing just faintly, but there were burns from the runes, and they were leaking blood. Jace gently ran his hands down her wrist and that's when he saw the ugly bruising on her right arm and felt the broken bone.

"I'll kill him," Jace whispered, and Clary groaned. He felt along her arm, testing the bones. "I'll have to set the bones once we're out of here; Valentine hasn't given me a stele." Clary only nodded and pressed her face more into Jace's hand. "Are there any other broken bones?"

Clary licked her lips, determined to speak to Jace. "…_no_…" she managed to gasp, and Jace fiercely kissed her.

"Don't speak," he said against her lips. "Just let me take care of you. I'll get you out of here; I just have to break these runes first."

Clary struggled vainly. _If Valentine catches you he'll be furious, Jace!_ she wanted to cry, but settled instead for moaning.

It seemed that Jace knew something of her thoughts, and examined the runes above her head and fiddled with the small, silver disk, similar to the one Alec had used to free him from Malachi's Configuration. "Don't worry, Clary, Valentine sent me down here; he wanted me to get you…now I know why." The sight of the woman he loved, so destroyed and helpless had woke in him a fury he didn't think he could feel. "He's just doing it to goad me. Here, stay still a minute," Jace warned, and then broke the connection between the runes, freeing Clary's hand.

"…My mom," she croaked, watching Jace handling the runes at her ankles. "My mom…"

"She's alright," Jace said quickly, "actually, better than alright. Valentine is only interested in keeping her happy. Please, don't talk, Clary."

Clary rested her head back on the pillow, but all she could think of was the horrible things Valentine must be doing to her mother at that moment. Agitated, she tried to sit up, but Jace pressed her back down. She was forced to lay on the bed, seconds becoming minutes as Jace broke the runes. The moment she could move, Clary tried to roll off the bed, but she barely had the strength to move, and she collapsed with a muffled grunt.

"Don't, Clary; just wrap your arms around my neck, I'll carry you," Jace said, and sat down so Clary could twine her arms about Jace. He scooped her up, holding her back and legs protectively. He made to stand, but stumbled a bit with a grimace of pain. Clary saw how he cringed and knew he was hurt.

"You're hurt…" she mumbled against his neck.

Jace shifted her weight and moved on to the door, and suddenly he was through it and all Clary could think was that she was free. Small tears pricked her eyes. She was still in the basement, but she wasn't in that horrible crawl space anymore. Jace saw the tears and sat her on the wooden steps that would take them up and out into the open.

"Don't cry, Clary," he murmured. "Please, don't cry. I'm going to take you out of here, and I'm going to fix you, and I'm going to take you to your mother. I'll take care of you." He kissed the tears off her face and then smiled. "Look, look up," he said, and then crossed her and pushed open the doors that opened to the outside world. Sunlight hit her face and Clary felt the light hit her eyes, blinding her completely. She ducked her head, whining; Jace landed before her, covering her face from the light. "Okay, okay, here, I'll cover your eyes." Jace felt along his shirt and ripped off a strip of the fabric, tying it around her eyes. "There, this should help with the light."

Clary reached out and felt Jace's shoulders. "Thank you," she said softly.

Again, Jace levered Clary up into his arms and held her lightly, making sure he didn't touch anywhere there might be bruises or cuts. The cellar was not formally attached to the house, and the only way to get back in was to go through the back yard and up the servants' stair. All the while, Clary was silent, though Jace was sure she must have been in great pain, and when they reached the third floor, Jace peeked about and then hurried her into his room. He snapped the door shut, and then deposited her gently on the bed before he pulled the shades on his windows closed and turning the lights off.

"Alright, Clary, it's okay now," Jace said, and undid the blindfold.

Clary still squinted, but she could see now, and she was looking about, exploring the room. She saw the orderly wardrobe, the attached bath, the small, empty bookshelf, the perfectly made bed, and, finally, Jace. He was seated before her, biting his lip uncertainly, as if not sure she would still like him, but when his eyes met hers, Jace saw a painful, hopeful light.

"_Jace_!" she cried and threw herself at him with all the strength she could muster.

Jace caught her up and before he really knew what she had done, Clary was kissing him. It was fierce, more fierce than he thought Clary was capable of kissing just then, but he felt her fingers of her working arm tangle up in his hair, tugging slightly and he felt her lips against him, and he knew she was very much alive and with him.

Clary was having a hard time believing that Jace was there. Her last memories of him were those last nightmare moments when he'd been dragged away with the Lightwoods, and she felt her heart go with him. Part of her thought Valentine-or, more likely, Jonathan-had killed him, and she had thought that if he was dead, she certainly wouldn't want to live. Even when Valentine had taunted her, she had only felt that hopelessness that she would never see him again.

_Here he is, Clary. Don't let him go, don't let him leave your sight, _she thought firmly to herself.

Clary would have continued kissing him, but there was a sudden pounding on the door, and Clary jerked back. The sharp motion jarred her arm, and she gave a cry of pain. Jace caught her before she fell back, and held her in the circle of his arms, his eyes on the door. After a few seconds, the door opened on its own accord and Valentine stood on the other side.

_No! _ Clary thought frantically, and scrabbled against Jace vainly, but he still held her firm.

Valentine came in slowly, locking the door behind him. His eyes swept over Jace and Clary, huddled like lovers on the bed, and he smiled. "I see you've collected my daughter, Jace. What do you think?"

Clary could feel Jace shaking and she realized after a beat that it was with anger. "I'm going to kill you for this."

Valentine's eyebrows shot up, and Clary thought he was going to lunge across the room at him, but his smile only widened. "You're hardly in the position to do that."

Jace narrowed his eyes. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough harm for once?"

"I'm not sure," said Valentine, coming closer, until he towered over Clary, "I understand what you mean. Clary was safely tucked away until it was okay to bring her out into the light. There is still unrest among the Clave, and I couldn't risk my _precious daughter_ being in danger."

"Is that what you tell Jocelyn?" Jace sneered.

"It's what she believes, or will, after she's spoken with that degenerate," Valentine shrugged, and his eyes glittered.

"Luke!" Clary gasped, and then time she broke Jace grip. Unable to hold herself, she tumbled off the bed and onto the hard wooden floor with a heavy thump. She gave a disgruntled cry but tossed her hair out of her eyes and glared up at her father. "Where's Luke?"

"Listen to her," Valentine said conversationally to Jace, as if Clary weren't even there. "How she rasps out her pathetic orders. She certainly has her mother's nerve, but, unlike her mother, I see no reason to allow for it."

Jace stood up carefully, flinching at the wounds in his side. "Don't hurt her, please, I can take care of her, keep her quiet until Jocelyn wants to see her."

_Keep me quiet?_ Clary wondered staring hard at Jace. _Why are you doing this? Why are you playing along like it's all alright?_

"You'll do more than keep her quiet," Valentine warned, smiling again, that smile that had so frightened Jace before. "So far, you have served only the purpose of making my wife happy, but perhaps you can have another use." Sharply, Valentine tugged Jace out of the bed and grappled with him; it wasn't hard, since Jace's broken rib and ankle deterred him from fighting. Clary lurched at Valentine, but fell flat again.

"Leave it alone, Clary," Jace warned, feeling Valentine's hands clamp down on his wrists. "Just leave it alone."

"She won't listen to you," Valentine said, smirking. "She's too stubborn. I think that she will only listen to pain, hers and your own. You must realize what this means?"

Clary squirmed, winded from her fall. "…_Don't_…" she rasped.

"You've left me with few choices, Clarissa," Valentine shrugged, and took both Jace's wrists in one hand, so as to free his other. "I need to know you will not flout my authority, and if I must resort to such brutish acts, I will."

His hand, now fisted, made contact with Jace's broken rib. Jace grunted, doubled over, and spoke through his gritted teeth. "Don't listen to him."

"I do not _need_ Jace alive, Clarissa," warned Valentine. "I have used him to serve my ends thus far, and while I admit, I am fond of the boy, I will not hesitate to punish him."

"Don't," Clary reached out a hand, trying to touch Jace.

"Perhaps we ought to have a chat, Clarissa?" Valentine asked, holding onto Jace like he was a rag doll. He gave Jace a firm shake, one that twisted his ankle painfully; he gasped loudly. "Just to put a few things in order?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

_**Jocelyn**_

Staying home with Jace had been oddly satisfying. Jocelyn had grown so accustomed to the thought that she would never have a son that suddenly having Jace in her care was exhilarating. She was so used to looking after a girl that a boy was an anomaly. Though she knew Jace must have been annoyed by it, Jocelyn couldn't help but run her hands through his fine, soft curly hair, smile whenever he yawned, or admire the solid, hard boy's body so alien to her when all she knew was Clary's soft, delicate curves. He was all strength, silence, and indifferent glances; she suspected that this was mostly a show, but she adored it all the same. A small part of her was guilty that she was so enamored by having a son-even a replacement one-when her _real_ son, and her daughter for that matter, were being held hostage against her.

For his part, though, Jace was polite and charming; Jocelyn could see why Valentine had so wanted him to be part of their family. They spent a pleasant afternoon together, Jocelyn tending carefully to Jace's wounds and keeping up nice conversation. As soon as Valentine had left, Jocelyn went and fixed Jace a very large breakfast, and while he ate, she examined the broken rib and ankle, massaging them gently.

"You should be more careful, Jace," she said calmly, watching a secret pass through his eyes. She knew someone was at play here, but Jace wasn't going to tell her. "_Whatever_ the cause of your injuries, all you have to do is come to me; I'll be happy to set things straight. I don't mind it, Jace, really I miss it; Clary was so clumsy when she was young, I was always racing after her with bandages!" The faint smile on her face was enough to interest Jace.

"What was she like?" He wondered if Jocelyn knew how he felt about her daughter, and if she'd like him half as much if she knew what he dreamed of sometimes.

Jocelyn's eyes sparkled. "Much like she is now, a bit less serious, though."

Jace looked down. "I was just curious-"

"It's okay, Jace," Jocelyn said quickly, taking that moment to steal a swift touch of her palm to his cheek. "Clary seems very taken with you, and, for all his madness, Valentine likes you. I suppose he's already planning your future."

"I'd like that," Jace admitted, looking down at the plate of food before him.

Jocelyn smiled and launched into a story of Clary's childhood, living in their small apartment. As she spoke, Jace ate and allowed her to tend his injuries. When the afternoon came, Jocelyn offered to bring up the chess set, if he wanted to play, or a book if he'd like to read. Jace opted for chess, and she hauled the board and pieces up. Three rounds later, two to Jocelyn and one to a very surprised Jace, Jocelyn vanished downstairs and returned with another plate, this time, sandwiches.

"You're very thin," she observed, her eyes raking over his body. "No doubt this is the result of your time in the Gard?" Jace shrugged; he didn't like it when people worried about him, that much was becoming obvious. "Well, regardless, you need to eat something if you plan on healing up fast."

As he ate, Jocelyn sat and asked after him: if he missed his family, what his favorite part of living in New York was, would he like to explore Alicante later. This last one pulled him up short, and his eyes glimmered hopefully.

"I'm allowed out of the house?" he asked curiously.

Jocelyn shrugged. "If I wish to go out into the city, I don't see why I can't take you with me. When things settle down next month we can go to the city circle, by the Accords Hall, and see if any of the shops have reopened. There were some very nice bakeries, as I recall."

"Would Valentine let me?" Jace asked again, trying to drive the point.

"If it makes me happy," she answered simply. "Anything that makes me happy, he allows." For some reason, this upset Jocelyn, and she turned away. "Did you really try to sneak out and see the Lightwoods?"

Jace's first thought was to scream, no, of course not, but a sharp pain laced up his spine and clamped his mouth shut until he consented to say, "Yes, I miss Isabelle and Alec."

Jocelyn's green eyes pierced him. "I can take you to see them," she said quickly, watching him closely. "Would you like me to do that?"

"I don't think Valentine is going to let me," Jace grunted, but the idea of seeing Isabelle and Alec was painful. "He doesn't want me around Alec anymore."

"Why?"

Jace swallowed. "Alec's…gay," Jace admitted. "I don't have a problem with it, but Valentine thinks that it's not okay to be that way, it's why he split us, but I don't care. Alec's been my brother since I was ten!" Jace glanced quickly at Jocelyn, wondering how she'd take his whining; Maryse certainly wouldn't have.

Jocelyn, however, was very much a mother; she gently squeezed Jace's shoulder. "Valentine is a hard man, but I can soften him; however, you have to stop aggravating him at every turn. I know how much it hurts you to give in to him-trust me, I understand-but it's the best way to get what you want."

Jace scowled. "He's just using me to-" _STOP_. Jace gagged on his words and sputtered, trying to escape the grasp tightening on his throat. "-to make himself feel better. I'm not an actual person in this household."

Jocelyn kissed his hair. "You're a person to me, Jace." She paused, letting her words sink in. "You look tired, Jace, so why don't you sleep while I make dinner. I'll bring you up a tray tonight so you won't have to go down."

As soon as Jace had dozed off-or pretended to, Jocelyn couldn't tell with him-she went back down to the kitchen and started a simple dinner. Again, she had the urge to make one extra plate for Clary, but she was reminded of her daughter's absence, and she sighed heavily. Jace had indeed been a good distraction, but the moment she left him, she was hit with that longing for Clary.

She was just finishing a tray full of food for Jace when she heard the soft thud of footsteps that announced Valentine's return. She turned about to face him just as he entered, eyes agleam at the sight of her. "Dinner in bed?"

"Jace," she said, gesturing to the plates of steaming chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. "I don't think it'll suit his ribs and ankle to be walking about. I'll take it up to him. Where's Jonathan?"

"He's running a little late with Clave business. It'll be just you and me this evening." Valentine smiled slightly, like a shy boy, and Jocelyn found the sight strange; Valentine could never be described as shy. "I have a surprise for you, Jocelyn, too; so don't bother with the dinner. We'll have something special."

_Clary_? She though, but knew better than to say it; Valentine always seemed annoyed whenever she mentioned her daughter. "A surprise? Something better than having a son?"

"An old friend," he said indulgently, and reached for the tray. "I'll take this up to Jace, I want to have a few words with the boy anyway about climbing out windows." At the look of suspicion on Jocelyn's face he held up his hands. "Don't worry, my dear, I won't touch a hair on your boy's head."

Your boy's_. How quickly Valentine removed Jace from his friends and family, all for me. Now he's in my care and I hardly have the strength to protect him. _Jocelyn poured a glass of warm tea into a large mug. "Tell him to eat it all, I don't like how thin he's become."

Valentine nodded seriously though his eyes were glowing. "I'll certainly let him know."

Jocelyn watched him go, pressing his lips into a thin line. She had so few friends, and most of the Circle were either dead, or so deeply in service to Valentine that she didn't want to see them. Contemplatively, she cleaned up and then hurried upstairs to change into something a bit more formal; so long as she was going to play the good wife, she had to show Valentine she cared a bit about her appearance. Though she quite frankly hated dresses, there was a nice silky, gold one, something she would have worn to Circle gatherings.

_This is what Valentine wants, and if it's what Valentine wants, it's good for Clary, _she thought, slipping into it. A quick glance in the mirror told her she was looking fair enough, not her old standard, but getting there. _Will he like it? _she worried. _Is this good enough for Valentine?_

"As always, you're stunning," said Valentine, who was standing in the door of the bedroom. Jocelyn felt his eyes on her figure, and she turned away slightly, embarrassed. Valentine's eyes widened at her. "What's wrong?"

_Don't let him know, don't let him know. _"It's been a long time since you and I have…done things together."

"And you thought my feelings had changed?" Valentine asked, closing the distance between them. "You thought I didn't love you anymore?"

_You never loved me, you only wanted to own me. _"I didn't know if you would be _interested _in me anymore. You've been gone a long time, and I'm sure you didn't spend those years alone-"

"Jocelyn," said Valentine swiftly, and he snatched her hands in one of his. "You were the only woman I ever loved, the only woman I ever wanted. I'd always want you."

_Always _want_ you…_ "Sometimes, I don't know what to think, is all. It's so strange, coming back into this life you've planned so well."

"Then don't think," said Valentine easily, pulling her into his arms. "Trust me to do the right thing."

"I trust you." _Trust you as far as I could throw you._

_**Luke**_

Since Valentine's last visit, Luke had had no other company. He knew that soon, Jocelyn would be brought before him and he would be expected to tell her how good a man Valentine was. And he knew that he was going to say whatever he had to say, do whatever he had to do, to protect Clary. It hurt that he was making sacrifices for Clary, especially when it came to the woman he loved, but that's what you did for your children. You protected them.

When the darkness of his cell was broken, Luke was in full wolf form, curled up beneath the bench in his cell. The light stung his eyes a bit, and Luke's hackles rose in a snarl, his teeth glittering savagely. He heard a faint gasp from the door and his snarl turned almost at once into a whine of sympathy. _Jocelyn_.

"Hello?" her voice quivered a bit, as if she were uncertain it was all just a trap. It was possible she was scared, after all, Valentine was crazy. Maybe she thought he was actually going to hurt her. "Hello?"

Luke crawled out from the shadows, stepping into the green glow of the witch light in her hand. The sight of Jocelyn was a wonder for Luke. She was stunning, but more than her usual jumbled, frantic, painter stunning; she was composed, elegant, powerful. She looked like Valentine Morgenstern's wife.

Carefully, so as not to scare her, Luke shifted into his human form. When he met her eyes, there was such a look of relief and adoration that his heart hammered. _Did Valentine hurt you? Has he done anything to you? Are you all right? _"Hello, Jocelyn."

"Luke," she breathed, and rushed into his arms.

For a guilty moment, Luke allowed himself to enjoy the feel of Jocelyn in his arms. Every part of him was burning for her touch, but he knew he had a job to do. _Don't forget Clary, don't forget how much danger she's in. _"It's good to see you. I've been worried."

"Don't be," Jocelyn said, putting just a little space between them. "I've been staying with…Valentine."

"I heard," Luke grumbled, and he ran a hand through his ragged hair. "He's treating you well though?"

"Well enough," Jocelyn whispered. "I still don't have my daughter back, but, I've got a son again."

"Jonathan?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "Jace. Valentine figured that since he raised him, he might as well adopt him. He's been a pleasant addition to the family."

Luke nodded, mulling it all over. _Now or never_. "It was good of Valentine to take Jace in. He's a good man."

Jocelyn's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She saw the look on his face, the guarded shadows in his eyes. "Luke-"

"No, Jocelyn, listen," said Luke quickly, and gave her a meaningful look. "I've spoken with him, talked a few things over…and –and I regret this whole mess. I realize now that Valentine was right: the Clave was corrupt. It needed to be fixed."

"But like this?"

"No one died, did they?" Luke asked quickly. "It was easy, it was peaceful, and it ended with all the demons gone. Valentine's proven himself a good leader, a trustworthy one."

Jocelyn swallowed and she looked suddenly so small that Luke wanted to hold her again. "He's been very good to me."

"Of course he has, Jocelyn, he loves you." Luke swallowed his disgust. "You need to trust him."

Jocelyn frowned, her eyes showing a bit of confusion. "You can't mean that?" she whispered in a weak voice. "Luke, he's a monster. He kidnapped Clary and he's keeping her prisoner-"

"Are you sure?" Luke asked sharply. "Valentine is probably worried about backlash from restless shadowhunters and Downworlders. Just because Clary fought against Valentine doesn't mean she'll be spared any anger. She bears the name Morgenstern."

"Do you really think there are people that angry they'd hurt Clary-"

"Jocelyn, Valentine ruined a lot of lives-Downworlder lives to be exact. My pack isn't up in arms, but there're plenty of angry vampires, witches, warlocks and werewolves to go around. Valentine didn't kill them all."

"She's a little girl!"

_Of course she is, and of course I'm lying, but you can't know that. _"And her name is Morgenstern."

"He said he was keeping her safe…"

_You have to make her believe you; Clary's life is on the line. _"And he is. Besides, he hasn't done her any undue harm, has he?"

"I wouldn't know, I haven't seen her." Jocelyn was sensing that no matter what she said, Luke was going to tell her to trust Valentine, and though she didn't know why he was driving the point, he was saying it for a reason.

"I think you'll find that he's taking good care of her, and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't bring her home soon. Things have begun to settle down now."

Jocelyn opened her mouth and then closed it again. After a few minutes of silence she finally fixed Luke with a hard stare. "What did he do to you, Luke? What did he say? Is he hurting you?"

Luke glanced away and Jocelyn knew she was right, but about what, she didn't know. When Luke finally did speak, his voice dripped with meaning. "You have to think of your daughter now, Jocelyn. I'm just a friend, and a poor one at that. _Valentine_ can protect Clary for you because I certainly can't."

"Protect Clary," Jocelyn repeated softly, and dropped her gaze. So it was hopeless, Valentine had gotten to Luke the same way he had gotten to her: Clary. She dipped her head in a bow. "Well, I certainly haven't been doing it enough these days. I hope Valentine can."

Luke smiled grimly and it didn't reach his eyes. "You just have to trust Valentine to do it for you. He's a good man, a good father; he'll take care of all of you."

_Yes, he'll take care of you, he'll take care of you all and he'll never let any of you see light of day again. But, still, I think he's a fine old chap, really solid man of character. _

"So you think I should…trust him to give me back my daughter?" Jocelyn asked carefully.

"I think that by no later than tomorrow, you'll have Clary back in your arms." Luke nodded. "He won't keep the person you love from you if you just give him what he wants."

"What he wants?"

"Your love," Luke answered, and his voice was strong and solid. _I'm sorry, Jocelyn, I'm so sorry it has to be like this. _

"Luke," she murmured, and then drew closer, terrified Valentine could hear her. "Luke, you need to know the truth. You need to know that ever since you found me and Clary I've been-"

"Jocelyn, don't say it," his voice was rough. "Just don't." _The Angel knows, I can't take it if you say it._

"I should have told you!" she said frantically. "All those years I just let it go by, but if this is it, if this is the last time I'll see you…Luke I lo-"

"Jocelyn?" It was Valentine and he was unlocking the door. "Jocelyn, are you ready?"

Luke caught her wrists and whispered harshly in her ear. "If you love me, if you really love me, Jocelyn, go with him. Think of Clary, think of your children. Whatever happens, whatever you must do, do it, and don't think of me."

_**Clary**_

"Alright, just let Jace go and I'll do whatever you want," said Clary, meeting her father's gaze with all the strength she had left.

"I knew I didn't make a mistake when I took you in," he said to Jace politely. He knotted his hands in Jace's hair and gave it a sharp tug. "So many uses."

"Don't…" Clary said, watching Jace's head snap back and forth. When Valentine stopped, he smiled down at Clary as if to show her how good a person he was.

"Now, I'm not going to let Jace go just yet," said Valentine softly. "I need to a make sure I have your utmost attention, but if you behave yourself like a good girl, I'll let you and Jace spend the rest of the night together. Now, that's fair, isn't it?"

"Clary, don't-" Valentine clapped a hand over Jace's mouth and gave his sore side another solid blow. He hung limply in Valentine's grip.

"Alright," Clary said weakly. "What do you want?"

"We need to come to an understanding, Clarissa," said Valentine. "I've allowed you to live for two reasons: because your mother loves you, and it would pain her if you were to die, and because, of my own personal pride." When Clary stared back, he shrugged. "I don't like losing control of my things, especially not some Mundane daughter."

Clary grit her teeth at being described as one of Valentine's _things_. "Can I see my mom?"

"When you decide to behave." Valentine lifted Jace's chin and forced the two to share a look. "Jace is being a good boy, he does what I tell him to do, and I'd like you to strive for something like this. To be my obedient daughter.

"I have great plans for you, Clarissa, but they're all for naught if you refuse your destiny. This means you will have to begin training at once; you're years behind your fellow shadowhunters and this means I'll have to train you intensively. You certainly won't be going to school with your peers." Valentine's eyes flicked over her face, measuring her anger. "Yes, I think I'll have to keep you here.

"There will be strict rules and swift consequences. I'd like to begin your lessons the day after tomorrow, when you're back on your feet." He smiled here, eyeing her broken arm and many bruises and cuts. "You'll have to have languages, mathematics, rune study, and, of course, practical training; it will all be rather extensive and I suspect you'll find the beginning of it trying. However, I'm willing to allow Jace to tutor you in some subjects, if you conduct yourself like a Morgenstern. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He was waiting for Clary to speak, and she had to fight a mouth full of curses before she could answer. "Yes."

"Very nice," Valentine dipped his head and then continued. "You must understand, Clarissa, that I will have to be hard on you, and you may consider my methods of education…_brutal_. Regardless of how you feel or what I do, you will not speak of your training to _anyone_. Is that clear?"

_You say training but you mean punishment, _Clary thought furiously. _I just can't tell anyone that you're doing it. _"Yes."

"That includes Jocelyn." At the name of her mother, Clary's eyes widened. "Yes, I know you want to see her, and I'm more than willing to let you visit with her-when I can trust you. I need to know that you're not going to say or do anything that will upset her; Jocelyn's state of mind is fragile and I don't want her to fall apart when she's doing so well."

_You're a liar._ "I want to see my mom, and she wants me," she rasped.

"Not at all, actually," he said, and this time, he turned Jace's chin so that they were looking at each other. Jace bared his teeth in a snarl and Valentine smirked; he moved Jace's chin from side to side, shaking his head. Clary had an urge to hit Valentine. Why, why was Jace letting Valentine do these things to him? "You see, Jace, isn't just here for your benefit; I brought him along to make your mother happy, to give her something to love in place of Jonathan. Your mother has taken quite a liking to him; she doesn't need to see you." Clary's eyes moved to Jace irrevocably and he lowered his gaze, ashamed. "Don't be angry with him, Clarissa, he's just doing what he has to do to keep his friends and family alive."

"I'm not angry," Clary said softly, though a small part of her hurt. _Does my mother really love him so much? _

"Now, I will let you see her, but only on your best behavior." Again, his eyes raked her. "I'll leave you in Jace's care this evening; he can clean you up, fix some of the nastier scraps. I have a procured a number of suitable dresses for the occasion tomorrow, I trust you'll wear one."

Clary ran a hand through her tangled hair. "I-I want to see my mom."

"All in good time, Clarissa, but not looking like this, you won't." He smiled at Jace. "I admit, Jace, that I commend you for seeing something in this mess. She's not much of a looker like this."

Jace finally spoke, and when he did, Clary relaxed just a little. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so they say. Leave it to me."

Valentine smirked and then tossed Jace back toward the bed; he landed deftly though the pain in his ankle sent a spike up his leg. Clary scrambled up to meet him. "Are you alright?" she gasped.

"He'll be fine, Clarissa," Valentine sighed. "I'll just be on my way, I've got to meet with Jocelyn. Jace, make sure no one knows that Clary is in here. If her release is found out too early, I will put her right back where she came from."

Jace's gold eyes glittered. "We'll be quiet as church mice."

Valentine smiled at the description and then turned, unlocked the door, and left. As soon as the door clicked shut, Jace was up and working at the lock. Clary watched him from the bed warily, the bend of his shoulders, the way the light caught his gold hair; when he turned again to face her, she was struck by her handsome he was.

_Of course your mother loves him, _she thought sadly. _He's the son every mother wants: smart, handsome, polite, and gifted. Don't hold it against him, he's just doing what he has to._ Clary smiled weakly, but Jace must have sensed what she was feeling. He came back to the bed and sat at her side, gently running a hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said, kissing her cheek. "He was going to kill the Lightwoods if I didn't come here and do what he wanted, but I didn't want to be…_this_." He gestured down at his clothing like he were disgusted with it. "He was going to kill Alec, and I didn't know what else to do." He looked so heartbreakingly lost that Clary felt a few tears glisten in her eyes; Jace was never helpless.

"I'm not mad," she whispered. "I just want to see my mom. She's okay, isn't she?"

Jace frowned. "Lie down, Clary. It's going to take a while to clean you up." Clary leaned back and flinched a little from the bed sores on her back. Jace vanished to the bathroom and returned with rags, antiseptic, and a bowl of water. Clary watched him, curious. "I'll have to set your arm first, and then I'll clean the rest. Tomorrow you'll have to bathe."

"I can't stand on my own," Clary observed.

Jace turned away, gently feeling her arm. "I'll help you."

Clary rested her head on the pillow that smelled so much like Jace and closed her eyes. "How is my mom?"

"Valentine treats her well," Jace said calmly as he continued to feel the broken bone. "She's not being tortured or hurt; he's in love with her. He gives her whatever she wants."

"She wanted a son…" Clary murmured.

"This is going to hurt," said Jace, handing her a wad of towels. "Bite these." Jace placed the towels in her mouth and Clary clamped down. He counted down from five, and at once, he jerked her bones back into place. Clary whined through the towels, but her voice was muffled. As soon as he'd mended the bone, Jace began brushing hair off her face, kissing her. "It's okay, it's okay…It's over." Clary panted.

"Tell me," Clary said in a breathy voice, "tell me about my mom."

Jace smiled at her. "She's being cared for. She lives here, has everything provided for her, has her children…"

"Does she love Valentine?" Clary asked softly, afraid of the answer. "He-he said my mother loved him again. _Does she_?"

Jace wrapped her arm in bandaging and then dipped a towel in warm water. He went first to her face and scrubbed away the dirt and dried blood. She looked up at him with big, green eyes and he kissed her chastely on the lips. "No. She has to pretend that she does to keep him happy, but she only ever asked about you."

_She only ever asked about me, _Clary thought to herself, relaxing a little. _She doesn't love Valentine, she only loves me…but she has to _pretend_ to love him. How much does she have to pretend? _Clary worried. "But what about Valentine?"

Jace sighed. "He thinks that if your mother is only concerned with you, she's not being a good wife-she has a _family _after all. Jocelyn has to pretend to love him and Jonathan and me, or else he'll take it out on you."

"So he thinks she loves him," Clary mused. Jace was finishing up wrapping Clary's wrists and was moving onto her ankles. "I guess she'll have to play along, won't she?"

Jace dabbed the burn and Clary flinched. "If she wants to protect you, she will."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

_**Isabelle**_

"Miss, miss you have to get up."

Isabelle slapped a hand to her face, rubbing the sleeping from her eyes. "…W-w-what?" she asked around a yawn.

A small pair of hands grasped at Isabelle's shoulders and pushed. "Please, get up. Mother says you need to get up and be ready before the Master comes from breakfast. You need to look presentable for your lessons, miss."

_My lessons_, Isabelle thought grimly. _All that useless nonsense I'm learning to make me a proper lady._ "I'm up, I'm up."

"Hurry, miss," the voice pressed and Isabelle sat up, trying to brush the tangles out of her hair with her fingers. She looked about, first to Alec, who was sleeping fitfully, and then in the direction of the noise. She beheld a small boy with big green eyes and a head full of dark , thick curls. He blinked his big eyes uncertainly. "Please, miss."

Isabelle felt a sharp pang of loss; the boy was the same size as Max, with the same big eyes. "Who are you?"

"I'm Archer, miss," the boy said with a quick, nervous smile. "My mother sent me to wake you."

"You mean Myra? She's your mother?" Isabelle asked, watching him closely.

"Yes, miss, she's my mother." Archer glanced back like he expected her to appear behind him. "You need to come with me and get ready or the Master will be furious."

"I can't-what about Alec?" she asked suddenly. "He needs someone to look after him, to get him food, to help him."

"I can do that, miss," Archer said at once and then he gestured to the table at his side. There was a tray of food on the table, a plate with some eggs and toast and a steaming mug of tea. "I brought him breakfast and I can watch him for you! I don't do anything around the house, I just stay in the kitchen normally."

Isabelle glanced back at her brother, but he was fast asleep and she knew that for him to remain that way, she would have to go. "Alec's very ill but he's not…contagious. He might have a fit or something, just hold him down to make sure he doesn't hurt himself while he seizes. You understand?"

Archer raised an eyebrow. "I know, miss, that he's sick. Mother says that he was injured by Valentine, and that he isn't himself right now."

"Yes, yes, he's rather ill," said Isabelle, grateful that the boy wasn't terrified, grateful that he was understanding. "But there's nothing…_permanently _wrong with him."

"Alright, miss," Archer said, and then offered her a hand and pulled her up.

Isabelle looked down at herself. She was still in the nice black dress from the other night, but it was crumpled now, wrinkles pressed in. "I should go change before I see Malachi."

"My mother is waiting for you in your room," Archer said, and then pulled himself up onto the bed. He sat and looked carefully over Alec, every now and then, swiping back the boy's hair; Isabelle smiled a little.

"I'll be back this evening." Isabelle lifted her chin proudly. "Thank you," she said as she went down.

Down the servants' stair Isabelle went, coming to a careful stop on her floor. Cautiously, so as not to make too much noise, she opened the small door in the hall and crept back to her room. From her window, Isabelle saw the sun just peeking up over the trees and she watched it glance off the roofs of other houses. She wondered what it might be like if she could live in one of those other houses.

_With my parents, _she added to herself. _With my parents and Alec and Jace and…Max. No! No…don't think of him. _Isabelle squared her shoulders and pushed down the bitterness and despair; she still had a living brother left to care for, and she still had Jace. Still, a small part of her heart was aching and she couldn't seem to make it stop. _I won't cry._

"Miss?" It was Myra, waiting in the door; she saw Isabelle and gave her a plaintive smile. "I see Archer came and woke you…good, good, we need to get you ready. You have a long day ahead of you."

Isabelle lifted her eyes to the woman and shrugged. "What is it first?"

"You're to dine with the master of house for breakfast and then have your music lessons." Myra came forward and began picking through the closet. "We need to get you ready, Miss."

Isabelle stared with contempt at the dress that Myra had chosen; it was pretty enough, made of soft, flowing fabric in a pleasant shade of light blue. The dress would cling to her flatteringly where the bodice crisscrossed and then trumpeted out and down just past her knees. When she reached for it, Myra picked her sleeve and nodded to the door.

"You need to bathe first, Miss," Myra said. "Hurry along, Miss."

Isabelle allowed Myra to direct her to a spacious bathroom where she stripped off her old clothing and stepped into a shower. The warm water was a balm on her tried body and soul, and she leaned back a moment and let the water run over her. There was a knock on the door, though, and Isabelle knew she had to move quickly. She quickly soaped her hair, rinsed it out, and then stepped onto a bathmat, waiting for Myra to jump on her.

Jump she did. Myra set upon her with a thick, warm towel and began rubbing her body down. Isabelle made to slap her hand away, but Myra just rolled her eyes and smiled a long-suffering smile. She sat Isabelle down instead and brushed her hair out, drying it off with a towel.

"My little Archer struggles worse than you," Myra clucked as she spread a nice smelling lotion on Isabelle's face, paying particular attention to the cut on her cheek. Isabelle allowed her ministrations, but it was a struggle. "Now, look at you, a pretty little thing. I bet you make all the boys swoon."

Isabelle arched an eyebrow; she was odd, in a motherly sort of way. It made her miss her mother, though Isabelle knew Maryse would never have been quite so gentle or attentive. "I guess…not that I'm looking at boys right now."

"Well," Myra said, and then she picked up Isabelle's chin and held it so their eyes met. "I'm sure you don't need to worry about it much anymore. You're almost a grown woman now, and a grown woman has other responsibilities."

"I suppose I do," said Isabelle, but she didn't like the way Myra spoke.

Myra led Isabelle back to her room and helped her into the dress. "You're beautiful," Myra announced and she rearranged Isabelle's hair. "Now, go downstairs, take your lessons, and _smile_. The master of the house likes you, Isabelle, but if you put him in a bad mood, he'll take it out on Alec."

Isabelle's eyes flashed. "I won't let him."

"Then be good." Myra warned, and, in her strange maternal way, kissed Isabelle's cheek. "Be a good girl."

_**Jace**_

Clary had finally fallen asleep, but Jace kept himself awake, watching her sleep in the moonlight.

It had been a hard time, straightening Clary out. After he had set her arm, what little life Clary seemed to have had left her. She'd lain on the bed, occasionally asking a question, but completely unable to respond. Her eyes followed Jace, though, wherever he moved, and every time she even began to look away, Jace would panic. It was difficult, though, for Jace to keep himself in check when he saw the damage done to Clary. There were bruises everywhere, most of them were on her arms and legs, but her belly was covered in lacerations, too, dark blue and ugly red. Her arms and legs were frail and bony, and Jace almost sure that he could snap them if he wanted. Jace was shaking a bit as he cleaned and bound her wounds, and his land slipped as he moved over her belly. He had started dabbing at the lacerations, and Clary suddenly gasped, arching her back against Jace's hands.

"I'm sorry!" Jace rasped, watching her chest rise and fall in pain. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"Don't stop," Clary moaned. "Just finish the cleaning…"

Jace had quickly finished up, but Clary's strained breathing haunted him. After cleaning her, Jace eyed her sickly frame. "I need to get you some food, Clary. You can eat, can't you?"

Clary smiled a bit. "I'm starving," she croaked.

Then, Jace had snuck out of room, creeping down the halls to the kitchen. He didn't meet Valentine or Jocelyn, which was surprising, and he didn't see Jonathan, which was welcome. He found soup, and he wanted to heat it, but if Jocelyn heard him, she'd ask, and if she asked, Valentine would punish Clary. No, instead he opened the can of soup, cut her many slices of fresh bread and took it back upstairs.

Clary had been waiting with her eyes closed like she was asleep, but the moment the door open her eyes did too. Quietly, Jace locked the door and turned out the lights. He joined Clary on the bed, propping her up a bit. "Sorry, but no one can know you're here; you'll have to eat by moonlight."

Clary smiled faintly. "Like on my birthday, on the roof of the Institute."

Jace's eyes flashed up to meet hers. "I didn't think you'd remember that." He dipped a spoon into the soup and scrunched his nose at the globular meal. "Sorry I couldn't heat it for you, but I didn't want Jocelyn coming down and…well, I got you lots of bread, and _it's_ fresh."

"More than good enough for me," Clary laughed weakly, and then allowed Jace to feed her. She ate quite a lot, more than Jace wanted her too, and she quickly placed a trembling hand on her stomach. "I don't feel good," she murmured.

Jace placed the plate of food on the floor. "You shouldn't have eaten so much so quickly; you might be sick."

Clary groaned and leaned back. "You mean I'll throw up?"

"If you do, I'll clean it up," Jace shrugged, and nestled alongside her. "Just try and focus on breathing for right now, and see if you can't sleep. I'll keep an eye out for Valentine or Jonathan, and I can wake you in the morning."

"Do I really get to see my mom?" Clary asked, sinking down into the pillows.

Jace felt Clary's fingers curl around his legs in a feeble grip; he reached down and placed a comforting hand on back and pulled her in closer. "She's been asking about you every day; I don't think Valentine can keep telling her no. She's bound to throw a fit if she doesn't see you soon."

Clary smiled just a little smugly at that and then her eyes fell shut. As she dozed off, Jace sat awake beside her, thoughtlessly running his hands through her hair and checking her pulse now and then. It didn't matter much to him that he had set all her bones, cleaned all her cuts, iced all her bruises, she still seemed very delicate, very ready to break.

_But you know she's not,_ he reminded himself. _She's a shadowhunter, a warrior, she's strong. She's the strongest person you know, and then some. She's isn't quite as breakable as you think. _

Still, Jace didn't leave her side the entire night, and when morning dawned he crept from the room, down the hall, into the only empty room left. The bed was made and waiting, the desk tidied, though he saw a number of books piled there that he knew were going to be used for Clary's studies, and even a small art easel. It seemed that Valentine had set about fixing up Clary's room already, getting it ready for his daughter.

_Getting it ready for Jocelyn, _Jace said to himself. _None of this is for Clary, it's all for her; if Valentine could have it his way, Clary would be locked in the basement where I found her. _

He threw open the wardrobe, and, just as Valentine has said, there were a number of outfits, but, hung on the inside of the door, was a nice, plain moss green dress. Personally, Jace didn't think it was going to suit Clary, but, then, it wasn't about suiting Clary, it was about making her look presentable and sweet for her mother. He plucked, and a pair of boring green heels from the wardrobe and returned to his room.

"What's that?" Clary demanded, her eyes narrowed in disgust. "I'm not supposed to wear that, am I?"

"Afraid so," Jace sighed, but he smiled a bit at the look on Clary's face. "Valentine's choice. Here, let me help you get into a bath and we really do have to hurry. Breakfast is in two hours."

"_Two_?" Clary snorted. "It won't take that long to-"

What it would have taken, Jace never found out, because at that moment Clary tried to pick herself up off the bed. Her arms and legs still weak, she fumbled, lost her footing, and crashed to the floor in a heap of painful whines and pale, skinny legs. Jace rushed to her side, muttering under his breath about impossible people, and lifted Clary up. She tried to stand, but Jace hefted her higher and took her to the bathroom where he sat her on the toilet while he ran a bath.

"Can you get the shirt off on your own?" Jace asked without looking at Clary. "I can help if you want but I'd rather not-"

"Yes, just help me over to the tub," Clary sighed. Jace lifted her with a bit of strain from his rib and replaced her on the rim. Clary eyed him playfully. "I had no idea you were such a gentlemen."

"Well, I am when it concerns the daughter of the man who has my family hostage," Jace hedged, realized what he's said, and then snapped his mouth shut. _It's not her fault her father did this, don't blame her!_ The look in Clary's eyes though, were hurt, and Jace rubbed her shoulders. "Don't listen to me, Clary, I'm just tired of this act; I just want to act the way I normally act around you, but as long as Valentine's around…"

"I understand," she said gently, and nodded her head to the door. "I'll be done soon."

Jace left then and returned to his bed where he sat, thinking carefully over the situation. There had to be a way to turn it in their favor, there had to be. What Jace wanted most, of course, was to see his family; he wanted to talk to Isabelle again and hear her say how unfair everything was, and how most of an ass Valentine was, and he wanted to see Alec again, even sit near him, just to feel that familiar brotherhood that had ringed them since they were children. But, what he wanted didn't necessarily mean it was good for Clary. He had to think about what she needed, what was best for her.

_To not live with Valentine, _was his first, resounding thought. _That's not going to happen though. Maybe she could see Simon, that might be good…_ It was going to be hard to convince Valentine to let his daughter see her vampire best friend, no matter how much Jocelyn cried to him. _But Jocelyn got to see Luke, so maybe Clary can see Simon. _

"Jace!" It was Clary, and he was up in a second, hand paused over the door knob.

"What is it?"

"I need that stupid dress."

_Typical Clary_. Jace tossed the green thing over his shoulder and opened the door. Clary was seated on the toilet seat again, this time, wrapped in a towel. When she saw Jace, she smiled defiantly. "Think that's a good idea, do you?" Jace asked. "Getting up when you're in no shape to."

"I'm going to have to walk downstairs, aren't I?" Clary challenged, and then thought about it. "Well, you might have to help me with the stairs."

"Yes, I figured that," Jace said, and offered her the dress.

It was a struggle with the dress, but with a little help from Jace, and much struggle, Clary managed to pull herself into the outfit. Jace caught her in the mirror and thought she looked exactly how Valentine wanted her to: young and innocent. The dress reminded Jace of something from a different era, and if he had known his American History, it might have been the 50's. The dress was a fitted crossover with a romantic ruffled collar that flared out into a skirt that reached a sensible knee-length level. Clary caught Jace looking at her and shrugged.

"I'm certainly no Cinderella."

Jace laughed hollowly. "Because I'm a princes charming?" He gestured down at his black pants, red shirt, and grey sweater. "I feel like a tool."

This elicited a small giggle from Clary, who stumbled over to join him. "We can be tools together then. Now, help me into these shoes and we can head down." Jace steadied Clary while she wobbled about into her shoes, and then placed her had firmly in the crook of his arm. "You won't let me go, will you?"

Jace looked shocked. "Why would I ever let you go?"

"I just don't want to lose you again," she murmured, and Jace felt her pressing her weight down on him. "Last time I watched you go, I thought I'd never see you again."

Very gently, like she was a delicate flower, Jace kissed her on the lips. "I'm not going anywhere, Clary; I'm here for Jocelyn, remember?" There was a lot of bitterness in his voice at this, and he quickly ducked his face before Clary could see it. "Come on, I'll take you to see your mother."

Jace could feel Clary's excitement thrumming through her as he took her down the hall and to the head of the stairs. As he expected, she was a little uncertain on the steps, clutching at his arm in a painful grip, but Jace didn't care much. It was the knowledge that Clary was there that made it all worthwhile. At the foot of the stairs, Jace paused to give Clary a once over, checking that nothing was amiss. He flicked the back of his thumb over her cheek and raised a small smile from her.

"Just take a deep breath, Clary," he said as they approached the doors to the sitting room. He smiled roguishly. "Remember, Valentine expects you to behave like a proper lady, and I know that's hard for you, but give it your best shot, alright?"

Clary smirked up at him and then pushed the door open.

_**Isabelle**_

"Long, strokes, _long_!" sighed the musician in exasperation as Isabelle flicked her fingers over the strings again. She'd been doing it for the better part of an hour, just to get a rise from the small, somber man. "You're going to tear that poor instrument apart if you keep on like that."

"Imagine the horror," Isabelle replied with a polite smile and wide eyes. "Why, I don't know what I'd do if there were to happen. It would probably take weeks to get another harp here, and think of all the training I'd miss I so desperately need." As if to drive home the point, Isabelle hooked her pointer finger around a string, pulled it till it seemed ready to snap, and then released her finger. The string vibrated angrily.

"In my day, girls would have died to have private instruction in the fine arts-especially a harp. Such a perfect instrument, so delicate and gentle, and so beautiful once mastered. You're wasting a gift, young lady."

_One man's trash,_ Isabelle thought viciously just as a bell tolled somewhere. "Yes, well, I do think our time is up, isn't it? I suppose you'll have to go now. It was a pleasure meeting you, wonderful, we'll have to do it again some time. Maybe, next month-"

"I'm speaking to your father," the man replied, tight-lipped.

"He's not my father," said Isabelle blankly.

The short man shrugged. "You're his ward, it's all the same." He stood up and huffed toward the door that might take him to maid or Myra. "I won't have a student of mine wasting away _my_ time when it could be spent on someone worthy."

_He's got quite the opinion of himself, doesn't he?_ Isabelle stood to follow him, buzzing like an angry bee. _He'll not go tattling on me, that old, short man! _"Malachi is busy."

"He'll listen to me, seeing as he pays me," the man answered smartly. "Myra…Myra!"

Myra appeared a moment later, her eyes alighting on Isabelle's furious face. "Yes, Mr. Grunald?"

"Where is Malachi? I need to speak with him at once about his ward," Mr. Grunald announced loudly, shooting Isabelle a contemptuous look.

Myra shot Isabelle a sharp look. "Isabelle, so get dressed for your next lesson; it's dance on the third floor. There's a small art studio that has been set aside for you."

"But, I want to stay-"

"Now, Isabelle," Myra said firmly.

"Fine!" Isabelle snapped, and tossed her hair back imperiously. "Fine."

Like a storm, Isabelle made her way back to her room, throwing curses and furious words this way and that. She kicked open the wardrobe door and found, to her disgust, a number of tights and leotards. _This is Myra's work_, she thought, and picked the least offensive, black one. For a while, she sat on her bed, considering just locking the door and refusing to let anyone in, but she knew that wouldn't do. At that very moment, Mr. Grunald was complaining to Malachi about her, and he was already considering her punishment, which would invariably involve Alec.

_I'm sorry, Alec, _she thought weakly. _A harp lesson wasn't worth it._

Resigned, she knotted her hair into a bun and went in search of an art studio. By the time she arrived, music was playing. The art room had been cleared of all decoration and furniture, save a single chair and table, where music was being played from a large record. The windows had been opened and light was streaming in, highlighting the tall, willowy women across the room, holding onto a make shift barre. She was standing still as a statue, but for her leg, which was making sharp, half circles across the floor. Slowly, she began to lift her arm, tracing a pattering up above her head, and then down past her waist, and finally, to her side where she gave a slight flourish and then finished the exercise.

_Sorry I'm late, I was running a bit over with the harp and- _

"You're late, Miss Isabelle," she said simply, and Isabelle was struck by her accent, something Italian, perhaps. "I usually do not take students who study my art so carelessly."

"Yes, well, see, I had this other lesson-the harp-and I got a little caught up there-"

She waved her hand. "If you are not dedicated to me, I will not be dedicated to you." She crossed the room with a purposeful stride, one that impressed Isabelle, and stood before her. Up close, the woman was much younger than her stern voice belied; she was a little shorter than Isabelle, thin and muscled, with thick, yellow hair, very grey eyes, and full lips. She couldn't have been a day over twenty-five. "How about this: we will respect each other, and so, be respected?"

"Okay," said Isabelle uncertainly. "I am sorry."

She bowed her head. "I know that, but now we are late for class, and you must hurry if you want to learn."

"Yes, alright, Mrs.…?"

"Call me Emma," the woman tossed over her shoulder. "Hurry, hurry, to the barre."

Emma was, as Isabelle soon found out, both demanding and exacting. Her preferred method of teaching was for her to show Isabelle an exercise once, have Isabelle mark it for her, and then with music, repeat it. All the while, she would prowl around Isabelle, making comments here, poking Isabelle with her bony fingers there, snapping at her when she was falling behind in the music. Regardless, though, Isabelle loved the feel of physical exercise and strain, and by the time barre ended, was ready for more work. Emma, though, had other plans.

"You're not strong enough-or trained enough-for an adagio. We will work on your balance and positions," she said. "Now, show me the positions I showed you during warm-up."

For all her grace and strength as a shadowhunter, Isabelle was no ballerina. She could direct her body through the motions well enough, but she didn't have the grace or presence Emma had, and it showed. She had also had no idea as to the terminology Emma used, and would have to continually look to the woman for guidance. Despite it all, Isabelle found she loved the class. It was the perfect physical challenge that could wipe her mind clean and leave her empty of all her worries or cares; all she had to do was focus on the step at hand and she was free. When the time came for the class to end, Isabelle wasn't ready.

"You'll be coming back, I suppose?" she ventured.

"Four days a week, five, before you have a recital," Emma decided.

"Recital?" Isabelle croaked. "I'm not performing for anyone!"

Emma leveled her with a sharp look. "You will, or else how will anyone know the progress you've made; I wouldn't expect something grand, just the household, perhaps, any friends you'd like to bring along."

Isabelle thought at once of Jace. "Do I have to wear a tutu?"

"You have not earned that yet," Emma pronounced just as a very angry cough was heard. "Ah," Emma said, "Malachi."

"I've come for a word with my ward," he said, and his eyes were dark. Isabelle knew she was in trouble then, and she quickly looked for an avenue of escape.

Surprisingly, it came from the most unlooked for places. "I'm not done with her, Malachi," Emma said sternly. "Isabelle has stretching to do before I go, and I won't see her slacking."

"Emma-"

"Absolutely not," she said sharply. "I do not allow my pupils to shirk in their lessons. I will be done in half an hour; you may see her then."

Malachi looked quite ready to have it out with the woman, but she had a glint in her eyes that reminded Isabelle of her mother. She watched his gaze flick to her considering, and then he smiled openly, though it didn't fool Isabelle. "Well, I certainly don't want to encourage young Isabelle to slack; by all means, finish your lesson."

Emma watched him with her shiny eyes until he was gone and huffing down the stairs. She listened a moment longer than turned and shot a look over her shoulder and Isabelle. Slowly, her lips turned up in the barest of smiles. "You look quite stretched to me."

_Thank you_, Isabelle wanted to say, but she simply bowed her head and walked past her and then made like a shot for the servants' stair and Alec, lying helplessly unaware of the danger he must have been in. As she went, a small voice in the back of Isabelle's mind was saying, _I can make this work, I'm not completely alone._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

_**Clary**_

There were voices drifting in from the sitting room, two voices really; she recognized Valentine's almost at once, since it had been her only companion for the last two weeks, and the other took her a moment to recognize. Soft and sweet, but with that streak of iron in it, and it was that hardness Clary knew best. How many times had she heard it when she asked to go to clubs, to meet Simon at his band performances, when she got caught spending more time in school drawing than doing her work.

_Mom_, Clary thought at once, and that one word was enough to knock the wind from her. _Mom!_

Jace opened the door to the room and Clary had to fight every urge to run in, her arms thrown wide with tears rushing down her face. Faintly, she saw the rest of the room, the pleasant view, the fire, the chairs, the people in the chairs, but none of it mattered because Jocelyn had suddenly jumped to her feet and was staring at Clary like she were some ghost. Jace's grip on Clary tightened when she strained forward, and she didn't care that she couldn't walk, Jace wasn't going fast enough.

It didn't matter. "Clary!" Jocelyn cried, and she shot to her, enveloping her in a warm, lasting embrace. Clary sank against her mom, listening to the sound of her heart beating, smelling the sweet scent of her hair, feeling the familiar curves of her body. "Clary, I've been so worried." Jocelyn kissed her hair and pressed her tighter.

"Mom," Clary croaked, but bit back anymore; she still didn't have her voice back and if her mom asked why it was gone it would lead to very dangerous talk.

"Don't talk," Jocelyn said and tightened her grip on her daughter. "I'm here, I'm here don't worry."

_How can I not worry?_ Clary wanted to ask._ Valentine's here, he's right behind you, watching us. I know he's using me just to keep you around. _"But, Mom-"

"I love you, Clary," Jocelyn said loudly, cutting her off before Valentine. "I've been scared I was never going to see you again, so scared something bad had happened."

_Something bad did happen, something horrible happened,_ Clary thought, looking at Valentine through the gap in her mother's arms. _That _something_ is standing right behind us. _Clary cleared her throat to speak and stood a little back from her mother. "I'm fine, Mom, nothing's wrong; I'm just happy to see you."

Jocelyn cupped Clary's face in her hands, smiling through very sad eyes, but she suddenly looked up, grinning at Jace. "And you, Jace, you brought Clary back. You're such a good boy," she said, and then pulled him into their embrace.

Clary shot a look at Jace who was looking stiff and uncomfortable. _It must be horrible to have a mother baby you when you've lived your life like an adult since you were a child, _Clary observed. Faintly, she brushed her hand against Jace's and he glanced at her, smiling tiredly. Jocelyn looked down at each other them, glancing between her daughter's burning green eyes and Jace's smoldering gold.

"Is this your doing, Valentine?" she asked without looking to him; Clary felt her mother's hand clamp down on her arm. "You brought me my children through fire unscathed."

"I would give your anything, Jocelyn," he said kindly, and Clary watched him approach with big eyes. "I only ever wanted you to be happy in your new home."

Jocelyn lowered her gaze demurely and turned about, keeping Clary and Jace firmly in her grasp. "I should have known you would take care of me. Lucian said as much…"

Valentine raised an eyebrow as if this surprised him. "Did he? I was curious what he had to say to you. Well, I suppose the werewolf had a bit of shadowhunter left in him after all."

_You prick! _Clary wanted to shout. _Luke's worth a hundred shadowhunters, and a thousand of you._ "Is Luke here?" she ventured.

Valentine's eyes darted to her and she saw a glimmer of anger at her daring to speak. "Well, not _here_, no, but he is still in the city. Perhaps next week you can visit him."

"I'd like that," said Clary through her teeth.

"We'll see then," Valentine replied absently. "Where's Jonathan, it hardly seems fair that we're having a reunion and he's not here. Jonathan!"

Almost against her will, Clary shuddered and pressed herself back a little closer to Jocelyn. She heard footsteps coming down stairs, the soft breathing of someone distracted. The door to the room opened and Jonathan stood there, dark eyes glittering at the sight of his sister and his parabatai. For a moment, his face was emotionless, but then it slowly broke into a smile, and he spread wide his arms.

"Sister," he said warmly, drew up to her, taking her hands in his and then reaching in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I was getting worried."

"I dare say it's safe enough for her now," Valentine said.

"Of course," said Jonathan, agreeing at once. They were in it together, Clary realized. "We should celebrate tonight, don't you think? Jace, you can play the piano, why don't you go and play us something?"

Jace flushed a bit at being ordered about like Jonathan's personal servant. "Well, I don't want to be rude, I'm sure Clary and her mother have much to speak of-"

"I think some music is appropriate," Valentine announced. "Go on, Jace, play us some songs."

Clary wasn't fool enough to not recognize an order when she heard it. Jace straightened his spine and jerked out of Jocelyn's grasp with a strange, blank look on his face. "If you want."

"I'll help you pick something," Jonathan said swiftly, smiling for real now. "I dare say that my taste in music is better than yours; I've certainly seen more of the world."

Again, Clary saw Jace's eyes narrow in frustration and he looked ready to lunge at Jonathan, but he nodded faintly and then crossed to sit at the piano; Jonathan followed and stood behind him, picking over music selections. Clary watched Jace lean away, digging against the piano as Jonathan reached around him and plucked a sheet of music up to examine it. He handed to it to Jace without looking at him.

"That'll be very nice, Jace," he said absently and wandered back over to where Jocelyn was seated on the couch with Clary. He sat down across from them, smiling pleasantly. "Look at you, little sister, dressed in that sweet little sundress; you look so congenial."

"Thank you," Clary said, pressing against her mother's side.

Jonathan's eyes didn't leave Clary as he said, "Mother, you look so happy; it must be nice for you to have us all back together. Jace, play!" Jace tried to open his mouth to argue, but Jonathan just snapped his fingers, and he gave up. Soft music began to pervade the room. "So, tell me, Clary, are you happy to be home? Ready to begin proper lessons?"

"Well…I'm looking forward to learning my heritage," she hedged, aware of Valentine's close proximity.

"It will be a long road, Clarissa," said Valentine, handing a glass of wine to both Jocelyn and Jonathan and water to Clary. He sipped his own. "Unfortunately, your previous education is wanting in many ways."

"Which is my fault," said Jocelyn, taking a sip of her wine. "I was the one who wanted a normal life for Clary. I do feel horrible about it."

"There's no shame in not knowing something," Valentine said gently, but then his eyes met Clary's and she saw the hardness there. "Only in refusing to learn."

"Clary's a good student," said Jocelyn, which wasn't necessarily true, but kind all the less. "Besides, rune study is almost a pointless endeavor for her, don't you think?"

"Combat will be where we focus most, I think," said Valentine contemplatively.

"Is she attending the school, Father?" Jonathan asked after a moment.

"No," said Valentine, shaking his head. "No, if Clarissa were enrolled there she would be placed in the lowest class they offer, but her unique abilities require more attentive training. I will be teaching her."

"I thought," said Clary, and she saw Valentine's hands tighten on his glass at the sound of her voice, "you said Jace could teach me?"

"Languages," Valentine corrected. "Jace may teach you languages, but I think he's only proficient in Latin, Greek, French, and Romanian. You might need a different tutor for the more difficult languages."

Jace's fingers slipped over the keys, but he swiftly continued playing, the melody picking back up. "Whatever you think is best, Valentine," Jocelyn said simply, pinching Clary just slightly to stop her complaining. "Her education is the most important thing now that she's safe; it's time Clary claimed her heritage."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Jocelyn," said Valentine, and Clary noticed that he seemed to actually mean it. "I had hoped you might agree, but, of course, I also think it's best to keep up her painting lessons. You might be interested in that yourself?"

"Oh, I'd love to," Jocelyn said in a rush.

Valentine raised his glass to her and sipped a bit. "I do want you to be happy, my dear."

_My dear?_ Clary wanted to spit. _Who do you think you are?_ "Clarissa, that dress is rather flattering," said her father.

"Yes, Clary," said her mother quickly, plucking at the skirt. "Why, you look like a little lady, like a beautiful little lady. Wherever did you find it?"

Clary ground her teeth together but forced her lips into a smile. "Valentine picked it out for me."

Jocelyn kissed her hair. "You look lovely."

_Like a lovely little doll for you to play with,_ Clary thought miserably. _That's all me and Jace are._ "There's so many nice outfits…I was a little overwhelmed."

Jocelyn saw her eyes drop at the lie. "Your father takes good care of us, Clary, but I'm sure you'll get used to it. I know it's more than I could ever have given you, but now, well our lives are changing. Thank you, Valentine."

Valentine stood and offered Jocelyn his hand. "You don't need to thank me; I'm just doing what any father would do. Would you care to walk with me before dinner?"

"That would be nice," said Jocelyn, rubbing Clary's arm and then standing. "Clary, why don't you stay here and talk to your brother or Ja-"

"Actually, Jace," said Valentine sharply, his eyes gleaming. "Why don't you go finish cooking dinner?"

Jace stopped playing rather harshly and turned about slowly; his eyes were burning brightly and his fists were clenched. "I'm not much of a cook."

"Nonsense," said Valentine, waving a hand. "The fish is cooking on a timer, but you just need to make a salad, keep an eye on the soup, finish the dessert, and set the table. It's nothing much."

Clary felt a wave of sympathy wash over her for Jace. It must have taken quite a lot to unbend his pride and nod his head, and he must have been embarrassed. Jace was a warrior, a man of action, he had been raised since he'd been a small boy to be a fighter; the thought of him being reduced to some housekeeper just made Clary hate her father all the more. She also realized that it must have taken Valentine quite some willpower to force Jace to go through with it.

"But, can't he stay-?" Clary began, but Jace made a sound like a loud cough and she stopped.

"Come, Clary," said Jonathan, smirking over at Jace who slouched off to the kitchen. "This is family time, after all."

"Jace is family," said Clary stoutly.

"That's a matter of opinion," Jonathan said in a low voice and Clary knew if she argued the point anymore Valentine was going to get mad, and if he was mad, he was going to punish Jace.

"You two should get reacquainted," Valentine suggested, and then he and Jocelyn left, whispering softly to one and other. Clary watched them go, wishing her mother could have stayed.

"So, what's it like, being a pawn?" asked Jonathan abruptly.

Clary blinked and turned her gaze on Jonathan; he was slouched comfortably on the couch, twirling his wine glass. "What's it like being as ass?"

Jonathan's grin widened. "I really do like that fire in you, Clary, it makes you so much more interesting than the rest of these idiots. I'm glad Father didn't drive it out of you, especially when I plan to."

She swallowed loudly and placed her glass of water down before she threw it at him. "You're nothing, Jonathan, if not a liar. Valentine wants to keep my mom happy, and she doesn't want to see me hurt; he won't let you touch me."

"You think so?" Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you curious as to where Jace got all those nasty bruises and broken bones? I promise, it wasn't because he fell out of tree sneaking out."

"It was you," said Clary angrily. "You did that to him!"

"Father asked me to," Jonathan shrugged, "and then we paraded Jace in front of Jocelyn, battered and all, and guess what he told her? He said it was an accident."

"That's because he doesn't have a choice," Clary growled.

"While that is true, it just goes to show that we _can _hurt you and get away with it. Jocelyn's love is like a double edged sword; if she doesn't love you, you're nothing, but if she does, you're a target. Either way, though, you're defenseless."

"Or, I when both she and Valentine don't care for you," Clary mused sweetly. "What is that like, Jonathan?"

Jonathan's face turned dark and leaned forward. "That's freedom, little sister, and it's magnificent. However, I will point out that someone here is concerned for my well-being."

"I can't imagine who."

"Lover Boy," Jonathan sniffed and he saw confusion cloud Clary's face. "Didn't Jace tell you about the little oath he took? The one Valentine made him take to save that disgusting Lightwood's life?"

Clary narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Jonathan gently rolled his sleeve up and revealed the rune on his right arm. "We gave him a choice, you see: either sever his bond with Alec and save the boy's life, or let us sever it by killing him. You can probably guess what that loyal idiot did."

"You broke the bond between him and Alec?"

"And bound him to me instead," Jonathan finished smugly. "Jace is _my_ parabatai now, _my _little brother,_ mine _to do whatever I want with, and, frankly, there's nothing you can do about it."

Clary's mouth was hanging open. "What about Alec?"

"What about him?" Jonathan looked perplexed. "It's not as if anyone cares for some worthless, little brat, especially one with his abnormalities. As far as Father and I are concerned, he can die."

"Alec is Jace's brother!" Clary leapt to her feet, her eyes glinting. "You can't just tear his brother away from him."

Jonathan chuckled. "You should have seen the look on Lightwood's face when we took the rune off, he looked like he'd been stabbed. And Jace, that pathetic waste of air, he practically fainted. I honestly don't know what Father sees in him…except maybe the work he's doing now."

"Shut up!" Clary snapped. "Just shut up!"

"Truth hurts, little sister?" Jonathan stood up as well, and he towered over Clary just like Valentine; his hand snapped out and he caught her mess of hair. "Or, is it this grip I've got on your hair?"

Clary rasped and tried to break free of Jonathan's hold. "Let me go!"

"I don't take orders from worthless, brats," Jonathan gave her hair another shake. "The only reason you're alive is because Father doesn't like losing his things. You just remember that." Jonathan's eyes were dark as night and cold as ice, and Clary tried to pull away.

"I'll scream," Clary said angrily. "I'll scream for my mom."

"Crying to mommy, are we?" Jonathan smirked but his voice held a note concern and she felt his grip loosen. "You sound just like Jace."

"Let me _go_," Clary hissed and she tugged one last time and Jonathan let her go.

"You just remember, Clary, that it doesn't matter where you run to now, there is no escape." Jonathan's eyes burned and Clary got the horrible feeling he was trying to see past her skin and flesh down to her heart; like he was looking for her fears.

Clary rubbed her arms and took a few steps back. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Not yet," he amended.

_You can't scare me, you're just a bitter loser because Valentine let Jace live_. Clary turned her back on Jonathan and walked to the window to wait out the rest of the time before dinner. She looked down and saw that the sitting room looked out on the back garden and she longed to open the windows and feel the fresh air on her face after so many days in the dark. She knew better though; Valentine wouldn't let her out except under close supervision.

Eventually, the sound of Jocelyn and Valentine's soft voices returned to them, and Clary stood at attention. As soon as they entered Jocelyn's eyes found Clary's again and she smiled broadly; it was all she could do really, with Valentine so close at hand, and she didn't know how much comfort Clary took from it.

"I think dinner is ready," Valentine said. "Shall we eat?"

Clary's stomach rumbled in response, but dropped when Jonathan arrived before her, offering her his arm like a gentlemen. "Take my arm," he hissed between his teeth, "or he'll send you to your room for bad manners."

Though she hated the thought, Clary allowed Jonathan to take her hand and lead her through to the dining room. Jace was standing alone at the side table, picking over the salad with sharp, annoyed motions. When he heard them come in, he spun about, and Clary saw a moment of desperate longing enter his eyes.

_What must it be like to see our family so happy, and know that yours is torn apart? To not even be able to mourn the loss of the people you love?_ Clary met his eyes and she tried to convey all this to him, but he just dropped his gaze and stared at the table.

Valentine helped Jocelyn into her seat, and Jonathan pulled out a chair for Clary opposite his. "Jace," said Valentine without taking his eyes away from Jocelyn, "do you mind serving the family?"

"I'll help," Clary offered at once.

"Now, now," said Valentine, "you've enough chores of your own to worry about, Clarissa, let Jace do this."

_He's not a servant_. "Yes, Father."

Jace prepared plates for everyone and served them each; when Valentine motioned him to a seat beside Jonathan, he jerked into a bow. "Well, why don't we eat? I'm sure some of us are _famished_."

_**Jocelyn**_

Evening found the family back into the sitting room, Clary tucked against her mother's side and Jace seated on the floor before them while Jonathan and Valentine sat opposite them in high-backed chairs. Jocelyn was absently rubbing Clary's hair and listening to Valentine discuss the Clave ordering with Jonathan, who happened to be the second most senior ranking member, but every now and then, she'd meet Clary's eyes and the two would share a secret.

She knew she couldn't complain too much about the given situation since she had Clary back, but there was still a shadow of doubt in her mind. She knew Clary wasn't safe. _You can't be here all the time, and Valentine knows it. She'll be defenseless…well, not entirely._ Jocelyn's gaze had landed on Jace, and she knew without a doubt that he would go to any ends to protect Clary, but it only made her sadder. _Poor recompense I can give him for loving and protecting my daughter; I can't even get him back his brother and sister, I can't even protect him from my husband. _Unable to help herself, Jocelyn reached down and rustled the loose curls on his head; Jace jumped.

"Something wrong?" Valentine's eyes were on him at once.

"I just-"

"It was me," said Jocelyn swiftly, and then she pulled Jace closer so his head was level with her knees. "It' been so long since I've had a boy to look after…I guess sometimes it's just a marvel for me, though I'm sure Jace is tired of me poking and patting him." She laughed, but her grip on him remained firm.

"I'm sure Jace doesn't mind," Valentine answered smoothly. "Maryse was a good woman, a good soldier, but she wasn't much for a mother. Jace probably never got that kind of love from her. A pity, too, but at least now he can get what he deserves."

Jocelyn nodded faintly and rubbed his back gently. "You know, Jace, when I was out before dinner, I saw the moon rising and it was beautiful. Perhaps you'd take my daughter out to see it?" When Clary looked up at her, Jocelyn shrugged. "I'd like you to get ideas for painting and Idris is so scenic compared to New York. Go now, go out!"

She pushed Clary up to her feet and Jace stared at her with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"

_Just stay out of this house, will you? Please, just keep her out of Valentine's way. _"Oh, yes, yes, I think you'll like it. Besides, I'd like to have some private words with Valentine." _Yes, that's right, Valentine, I'd _love _to speak with you, I'd love to have all your attention. _"You won't mind do you?" she shot at him.

Valentine's grey eyes flicked down to Jace and Jocelyn knew he was giving the boy an order, but that hardly mattered, as long as they were gone. "I can't see the problem with that, though," and here, he smiled congenially, "Jace, she is my _daughter_, I'll remind you. No…funny business."

Jace jumped to his feet, smiling easily. "Most fathers would be ecstatic to have me squire their daughters about, I'll let you know."

"I'm not most fathers," he said, but his gaze was on Jocelyn who was smiling coyly back. "Be back before eleven; Clarissa has to get up early to start training."

Jocelyn gave Clary a small shove toward Jace and nodded toward the door. "Go on, you two. I saw you making eyes at each other all night." _Not necessarily, since Jace didn't lift his eyes through all of dinner, but that hardly matters._

Jace took Clary's arm and pulled gently toward the hall. "You saw that, did you? Well, Clary, if your mother insists on this, I'm not going to argue."

_Yes, yes go!_ Jocelyn thought as Jace led Clary away from the room and into the dark hall. Jocelyn was still watching the door when she said, "I'm very happy you brought them here, together, Valentine. Clary is quite taken with the boy."

Valentine smirked into his glass. "Yes, well, there's much Clarissa must do before we let her think about such things as marriage."

"Marriage?" Jocelyn looked back, surprised. "Oh, that's ridiculous, but there's nothing wrong with a handsome boy who takes you places. As I recall, Valentine, you were quite insistent on going to dances with me."

A change came over Valentine and his eyes simmered. "You remember those nights?"

"I wouldn't forget," she said shyly, and stood up, stretching luxuriously. "Maybe it's just been the excitement of the day, but I'm tired. Would you care to join me?"

"Of course," said Valentine, and he shot a quick look over to Jonathan. "I suppose you're staying up to deal with a few of the last placements of the Clave?"

"I was going to review them," Jonathan agreed.

"Excellent," he said. "Tomorrow morning I'll evaluate the final decisions and then you can let the people know."

Jonathan tipped his head graciously. "I'd like that."

"Very well then, Jocelyn?" He looked back to her and she inclined her head to the hall and the stairs that would lead them to their room.

They went quietly at first, and Jocelyn knew Valentine was wondering what she wanted. _I want you dead and gone, and I want to be back in New York with Luke and Clary. _Carefully, as if she didn't know she was doing it, Jocelyn let her hand brush his. _But, I'm here and you have my daughter, so I'll play this stupid game. I'll be happy for you, I'll tell you I love you._

When they reached their room, Jocelyn watched him close the bedroom door and the moment he turned back to her, she stepped into the circle of his arms. "Jocelyn-"

Jocelyn cut Valentine off with a firm kiss-she didn't think she could bear it if he spoke because even the sound of his voice sickened her. Pleasantly surprised, Valentine wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her into a tight embrace. The kiss lengthened and Jocelyn dipped her head, kissing the tender spot at his throat, and she felt Valentine stiffen, more than a little surprised. She tugged him gently toward her and the two fell back one step, two steps, three and then they were seated on their bed. Jocelyn paused just a moment, assailed by too many happy memories of her time in her apartment, raising Clary, talking with Luke.

_Luke…_Her resolution wavered painfully. _Whatever happens, whatever you must do, do it, and don't think of me, that's what he said. Okay, Luke, I'll do it and not think._

"Jocelyn, are you alright?" It was Valentine and his voice was concerned, open, searching.

In response, Jocelyn reached out and pulled Valentine against her so the two fell back on the bed, entangled in each other's arms and kisses. "I love you, Valentine."

_I'll tell him I love him, I'd tell the devil himself I loved him if I get to keep my daughter. _


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven

_**Alec**_

The boy, Archer, was better company than Alec had expected. He sat silently at first, watching Alec eat and making sure he finished all the food before him. His silence, though, was not the product of discomfort, but more of a keen interest; Archer's eyes were constantly moving, constantly seeing different things, knowing more. In some way, Alec saw a little of Max in Archer, and that stung almost as much as the empty space Jace had left.

_Don't think of that,_ Alec warned himself. _Don't think of your brothers, don't remember them._ Alec cleared his throat. "So, do you live here too?"

Archer jumped a little when addressed, but then smiled slowly. "My mother and I live in the house, in the servants' rooms, down in the basement off the kitchen."

"Do you like it here?" Alec asked.

Archer frowned. "The Master of the house is very strict, and there's no time for me to do anything but my chores."

"What about training?" asked Alec curiously. "Surely, you're training to be a shadowhunter?"

"I'm not old enough," he answered. "Mother says I can when I'm eleven, but until then, I have to stay and look after the house with her."

"That's not really fair," Alec said. "Isabelle and I started training when we were young, very young, and Jace-my friend-he was just a little boy when his father marked him."

Archer's eyes widened. "Mother said I have to be careful with my training. She said that shadowhunters get hurt easy and I shouldn't be in any rush to get myself into trouble."

"But you want to learn don't you?" pressed Alec.

Archer nodded his head vigorously. "Oh, yes, but I have to wait and be patient."

Alec felt a small smile pull up his lips; this boy was at the same time so unlike Max and so like him. "Isabelle or I could teach you if you'd like, just small things to get you ready. It's hard, learning to be a shadowhunter, especially when you've no experience."

"Would you really-"

"Alec!" It was Isabelle, and she rushed up the steps with a frantic look in her eyes.

Alec too in her strange appearance and sat up a little straighter. "What is it?"

"Go to your mother, Archer," she said sharply. "Go on, leave before Malachi comes!"

Archer bounded from the bed, eyes wide; he had reached the door when he skidded to a halt and said quickly to Alec, "I'd like to learn, yes!" and then he vanished.

"Malachi is furious," Isabelle said, quaking. "I came up here to stop him hurting you."

Alec's eyed flashed. "Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no, of course not," Isabelle said, distracted. "He always threatens to come after you; I just wanted to beat him here."

"Isabelle, you should go," Alec said. "Whatever he's going to do, he won't kill me, and I don't want you here. He could hurt you."

"I'm not leaving you with him."

"Please, Izzy, just go back to your room and do something useful with your time. It'll only be worse if you have to watch." Alec looked at her desperately, but he sensed he was fighting a losing battle.

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Do you like to torture me?"

"Sometimes," she said with a quick smile, and then sat down on the bed. "Alec, I'm responsible for this, and I'm not going to leave you up here defenseless. You're my brother, and I won't do it again."

Alec knew Isabelle was referring to Max, though she'd never admit it, and, in a small way, Jace, who she had been unable to protect from Valentine. "Izzy, you can't fight this; you and me, we're in a bad situation, and you have to make the best of it."

"And leave you to this?" She gestured around the room. "I'm not going to abandon you, Alec."

"I don't want you getting hurt-"

"Me? _Me_? You're the one who can't move! You're the one with the severed connection! You're the one who lost your parabatai!" Isabelle gasped suddenly, realizing what she'd said. "Oh, oh, Alec, I'm so sorry; you know I didn't mean that."

Alec shook his head tiredly. "You meant it, and it's the truth, Izzy, but it still hurts."

Isabelle curled up beside her brother and wrapped her arms about him in a warm embrace. "We're Lightwoods, Alec, and we'll always be together; I'm not going to leave you."

"Thank you, Izzy," he said softly, and reclined against the pillows on the bed.

They waited that way until the sound of creaking stairs announced the approach of Malachi. He pushed the door open, letting it swing on its hinges, and then surveyed the room with mild distaste; when he saw Alec and Isabelle, his eyes narrowed infinitesimally.

"What are you doing here, Isabelle?" he asked sharply.

"I'm sitting with my brother," she said simply, and Alec felt her fingers tighten on him. "My lessons are done for the day, aren't they? I'm allowed see how Alec is."

"You have rune study-"

"I don't see the point, as I'm not allowed to fight," Isabelle sniffed.

"You should be in the kitchen with Myra, then, learning how to cook." He smiled when he saw a flush in Isabelle's cheeks.

"Well," she sputtered, "what are you doing up here? I didn't think you made a point of going to the attic."

"I don't." Malachi entered, closing the door with a snap. "Personally, I find the place rather disgusting, but I have business to attend to up here."

"Business?" Isabelle snapped.

"I was given quite an earful on my parenting techniques from your music instructor," Malachi said conversationally. "I was most unpleased."

"Well, I was downstairs," she said stiffly. "Why didn't you come find me there?"

"I wasn't interested in looking for you. No, I dare say I'm a bit keener on visiting with your brother." Malachi neared the bed, his eyes resting on Alec. "He and I should talk a bit, I thought."

"About what?" Alec asked finally, glaring at Malachi.

"About your sister," he answered with a gracious smile. "She's got a temper, and I was a bit curious as to how your parents handled such a spiteful, little thing."

_Spiteful little thing?_ Isabelle thought furiously. "Excuse me?"

"She's very miss-behaved and I'm concerned I won't be able to rein her in. Suggestions?"

Alec could feel Isabelle vibrating with pent up anger, and he was surprised Malachi hadn't stopped speaking. Usually, when Isabelle was that angry, people stopped poking fun at her. He, though, seemed content to continue speaking. "Well, I don't think my parents ever had a reason to punish her; she's well-behaved, astute, and dedicated."

"I've found her to be otherwise." Malachi grinned a little at Alec.

"Perhaps it is you then," Alec shrugged.

"Perhaps," Malachi mused, "or perhaps it is that she has simply been spoiled by your parents and expects ridiculous things for no reason. She seems used to getting her way."

"We were raised the same, so I don't see how I can help you then," Alec replied and squared off his shoulders. "I suppose we're all bad apples, aren't we?"

"I hoped not, but that seems to be the case," Malachi sighed. "I was never much of a patient man, Alexander, not for adults, let alone children."

Isabelle stood up suddenly. "Then give us back. Send us back to Valentine and he can lock us up with our parents. We'd rather be there anyway."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Malachi said, and he drew level with the bed, towering over Isabelle. "I said I would keep you, and I won't fail Valentine. Now, why don't you go back downstairs to your room and practice your runes until dinner is read?"

"I'm not leaving Alec," said Isabelle firmly.

"Then, you might be in sour disposition for dinner," Malachi answered.

Isabelle knew what he was planning, and she stood so that the only way Malachi could get to the bed was through her. "I'm not moving."

"Isabelle, please, when you swore your oath of obedience to Valentine, he _ordered_ you to come to my home as my daughter, and daughters obey their fathers."

"You're _not _my father!"

"Move," he said darkly, and pointed the wall.

"Screw-" Isabelle's words were cut off when she jerked to the side by an unseen force and stumbled against the wall.

Malachi watched her pick herself up and look down at her legs in confusion. "I didn't _want _to have to raise you like this, Isabelle. I was so hoping you might see reason, but I see that you're an obstinate thing. A pity."

Isabelle met Alec's eyes and she felt a wave of terror wash over her. _This is all my fault, it's all my fault and Alec is going to be punished for it. _"Wait! You're mad at me, Malachi, not Alec. You can punish me instead."

"I'm about to," he said softly and approached Alec.

Alec, for his part, did try to move. He managed to swing his legs about and place some of his weight on his feet, but his knees gave out and he stumbled backward. With Malachi looking down on him, and with no ability to run, Alec lashed out with his fists. His first swing missed but the second landed and Malachi gave a cry of fury, clutching his sore side. His hand snapped out, striking Alec firmly across the face and Alec fell back against his pillow. Malachi took that opportunity to grab a book off the nearest table and pummel Alec's stomach and chest with it. Isabelle gave a frustrated cry.

"Stop it! _Stop it_!" She pounded her fist against the wall, hoping maybe someone would hear her below and come up. "Leave my brother alone!"

Malachi glanced once in her direction, smirking at her helpless position. "You should have behaved yourself."

"You bas-" her name was drowned up by the thumping sound of the book in Malachi's hand on Alec's prostrate form.

Alec managed to block the book from his face, which was really all that matter to him, and then collapsed while Malachi finished. _Don't let Isabelle know you're in pain, don't make her any more guilty. _She already had too much from Max, anyway.

When Malachi finished, he tossed the book aside carelessly and looked at his work; Alec's stomach was more black and blue than pale white. "I hope, Isabelle, that I have made myself clear?"

Isabelle was crouched against the wall, looking mutinous. "I'm going to kill you."

He laughed amicably. "I don't think so." He turned to leave, not releasing Isabelle until he reached the door. "I'll see you at dinner, my dear. Do be on time, I hate tardiness."

He left the room and Isabelle fell forward, released from her hold. In three strides she'd landed beside Alec on the bed and was rubbing his face with her palm. "Alec, Alec, please wake up."

"I'm awake, Izzy," he croaked weakly.

"I'm _so sorry_," she whispered. "I should have just done what he said, I should have just played the stupid harp-"

"The harp?" Alec rasped, looking disgusted. "No, no this was worth it."

Isabelle wiped the tears out of her eyes. "This isn't a time to make jokes, Alec."

"Don't worry about me, Izzy," he said, and griped her hand. "I'm not completely helpless, you know. I've gotten into a scuffle or two once."

"Yes," Isabelle agreed softly, lying down beside him, "but I was always there to have your back, wasn't I?"

_**Aline**_

She could hear voices drifting up the stairs, soft, plaintive voices, and she knew her parents were trying to be polite and courteous, no matter how much it must have pained them. Carefully, replying on all her guile and all her skills in tracking, she crept along the hall and to the edge of the stairs to listen. At first, she couldn't really pick anything up, just more faint murmuring from a man and her parent's reassuring voices.

"…course we're going to. Aline still needs to complete her education, and we wouldn't want her penalized for something a trivial as a few extra years."

_Going to what?_ Aline wondered, narrowing her eyes. _What are you going to do with me?_

"The Clave just wants to keep track of our younger shadowhunters," said a very soft, very polite voice. Aline was sure she'd heard it somewhere, but where, she couldn't say. "You know, some of this coo was the result of poor parenting, especially on the part of the Lightwoods."

"Really?" her mother asked, and Aline picked up a faint note of worry.

"Yes, really," the voice said, and Aline could detect a masculinity in it that she hadn't before. "You were, after all, associated with the Lightwoods, so the Clave was especially interested in your daughter."

Aline swallowed. _I haven't done anything! _

"Our daughter has been at home with us since the Reformation," said her father, using a formal, respectful term for the war and reordering of the Clave. "I can guarantee that Aline hasn't left this house."

"That's unnecessary," the man said, a smirk in his tone. "She was involved, though, with some suspicious characters: Isabelle and Alec Lightwood, the Daylighter, _Jace_ Herondale…"

"We haven't seen hide nor hair of them," her mother said firmly.

"No, no I don't think you would have," he said and Aline thought he was laughing at them. "We must be careful now, of our children, since some are still prone to _mutinous_ thoughts, but, since you've assured me Aline will be enrolled again, I see no reason to push the point."

"No, none at all," her mother. "Was that the only reason you came?"

"One more thing, actually," the man said. "Has your daughter any aptitude for painting? Valentine was hoping he might find a young woman of an _upstanding_ _family _who could take lessons with his own daughter. You know Clarissa, I'm sure?"

"Barely," said her father.

_Taking lessons with Clary? _Aline wondered, thinking of the last time she'd even seen Valentine's daughter. _What's she got to do with anything? _

"Well, Valentine feels that having a well-mannered, good natured young woman might be a positive influence on his daughter. If the Lightwoods had been more open to the Reformation…but, as they were so against it, I don't think he wants their daughter mingling with his."

"Aline would be…most pleased to paint with Clarissa," her mother said, and Aline knew she could have said nothing else. "Where should we take her?"

"Someone will come to collect her next week around two from the school; she'll be taken from her lessons early." The man sounded bored and Aline pressed a little closer.

_Going to paint with Clary? What's Valentine up to? _The idea of being anywhere near Clary was unsettling, not because she disliked the girl, but because she was scared of her father and brother. _She'll need a friend, though._ Aline had never really considered herself to be Clary's friend, but in such desperate times, she didn't think she really had a choice.

"Well, I'm sure Aline will be thrilled to hear the news," her father said. "Can we see you to the door?"

"Oh, I can see myself out; I do remember he house well," said the voice with relish, and Aline shivered. Yes, she knew that voice.

Perhaps it was just her poor luck, or maybe it was because he had some unknown power that Aline was unaware of, but Jonathan Morgenstern suddenly rounded the corner, gazing right up the stairs, as if he knew she been there the whole time. Aline gasped, seeing him with hair white as snow only made his eyes more black and his face more hard and lined. She stumbled back and fell over her feet.

"Eavesdropping, Aline?" Jonathan asked smugly. "How very impolite." Aline shook her head, trying to find the words to say all the things she wanted to, but her voice failed her. "Hoping for a little tidbit about your cousins? Or, maybe your crush, Jace?"

"N-no," Aline managed.

Jonathan shrugged. "Ah, well, I'm sure these things will resolve themselves. I'll see you next week."

He turned and left as if he didn't care and Aline, freed from his gaze, dashed back to her room, tossing herself on her bed and curling up in the covers. _Why me? Why do _I _have to be Clary's friend? _

_**Jace**_

"Why can't I see Clary?" Jace demanded of Valentine, staring at him from across the large, mahogany desk in his study. "I thought you said I could help train her?"

Valentine took his time looking up from the paper before him, and when he did, Jace was surprised by how unconcerned he seemed with Jace's outburst. "Clarissa needs to begin her training immediately, and it needs to be thorough. You will help in her instruction of languages and some minor mathematics, that's all."

"I can help her learn runes," Jace said at once. "I studied them enough when I was younger."

"Clarissa is hardly in need of assistance for _that_," Valentine laughed. His eyes gleamed as he watched Jace, desperate to help his daughter and so incapable of doing it; he enjoyed the sight of Jace helpless. "Why don't you go sit with Jocelyn while she paints?"

"Sit with her while she _paints?_" Jace said in disgust. "That's what you want me to do? Sit around? After everything you taught me, after all the years of training, you want me to sit with your wife?"

"We've gone over this before. That's why I spared your life in the first place," said Valentine emptily. "I didn't need you Jace, I already had a son. Jocelyn, however, needed one. Don't delude yourself into thinking you're worth more than that. Now, go find her and make her happy."

Jace was furious at Valentine's dismissal of him. _That's the only reason you kept me alive, so I could make your wife happy? Well, screw you, Valentine! _"No, I won't do this anymore."

For the first time during their conversation, Valentine frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I've played this game long enough, haven't I? Jocelyn needed someone until Clary got here, and she's here now, so Jocelyn doesn't need me. If you won't let me see Clary, at least let me see my family."

"And, why," said Valentine, smirking, "would I ever let you see the Lightwoods again?"

"I'll see them when I go back to school," Jace shrugged, thinking fast. "You said it yourself, I don't come of age until I'm twenty-one now, so if you don't let me see them now, I'll just wait until-"

"You're not going to school," Valentine said dismissively. "None of my children are, so why would you?"

"Clary's not going-"

"If Clarissa was to attend, she would be placed in a class with children, and Jonathan has no business in a school like that, he's far too accomplished a soldier to be sitting around in a classroom."

"And me?" Jace asked.

Valentine slowly ran his eyes up and down Jace's form, studying him, searching his face. "You are trained enough that I see no reason to waste the time. Besides, you have more important matters to attend to: my wife."

"You don't think I need to learn something?" Jace asked caustically. Really, he was just a little angry Valentine didn't want him to go back to school; at least there he'd have a chance to interact with the Lightwoods, at least there, he'd be able to practice fighting and rune study.

"I think your sole purpose in life is to keep this family content," said Valentine, enjoying the pale white Jace's face became as he said it. "It would really be a disservice to the family if I took you away from them for something to trivial as lessons. Honestly, Jace, do you really expect to get into a scuffle with a demon anytime soon?"

"So, I'm just not going to fight again?" he sneered. "That seems plausible."

"I'm glad you think so too," Valentine agreed with a polite smile. "I can't trust you, Jace, with a weapon, so I'm not going to put one in your hand. You will put down your arms for a while, I think, and focus on being something useful to society."

"You can't do that," Jace whispered. "You can't _not_ let me fight! I'm a soldier, that's what you trained me for in the first place!"

"No, I trained you to please Jocelyn," Valentine argued, "and you will do that right now. Get out of my sight."

"So it that all I'm going to do for the rest of my life? Just bum around your house?" Jace was furious, and he leaned over Valentine's desk.

Valentine looked up from his paperwork dangerously slow. "No, not at all. If necessary, I'll use you to control my daughter; she does whatever I tell her if I threaten to beat you." He smiled mockingly. "You should have seen her this morning, Jace; I thought she was going to put up a fight, but I had only to mention your name and she fell right in line."

"I don't like being used."

"That's all you're good for." Valentine rose and he towered over Jace, sneering. "You ask what I would do with you? Well, this is it. You will keep Jocelyn happy until I can find something else to occupy her time, and then, you will keep my daughter in line."

"Forever?" Jace snorted.

"I don't see why not," Valentine murmured, coming out from behind his desk. "It can't be too horrible, can it? Marrying that little brat?"

"Marry-"

"I know it sounds revolting, but I assure you, it's better than the alternative." Valentine took a firm grip on Jace's shoulder and jerked him forward. "In a few years time, when I'm done with her and Jocelyn is tired of her, I can ship Clary off somewhere, and you with her. That way it won't matter where she goes, I'll always have a leash on her-_you_."

Jace tried to pull free. "I won't let you use me to hurt her."

Valentine tossed Jace with enough force to upend him. "I'll do whatever I like, and so will you. Now, go sit with Jocelyn."

"No-"_GO_! Jace stumbled back a step, as if Valentine had dealt him a physical blow. He looked up, shocked at Valentine's malice. "You can't do this, you can't just dismiss years of my training and life."

"Watch me," Valentine said evenly. "Do as your told, Jace; it would be so horrible if I had to hurt your pathetic little step siblings because you couldn't do as your told and just go _sit with my wife_."

Jace was shaking, fighting Valentine's will, but it was hard when he felt a burning sensation in his arms and legs. "Why are you doing this? Why me?" It took Jace a minute to realize _that's_ what he really wanted to know. _Why did you have to ruin my life? Of all the people you could have used against Clary, why me? Why did you even _bother_ saving my life in the first place?_

Valentine's keen grey eyes took all this in and more, and his smile remained on his face, sharper now and far crueler. He grabbed Jace and held him close enough so his voice could drop to a harsh whisper "Because you're dirt stupid mother died from her oozing, pathetic heart, and no one even bothered to know you were alive. Why you? Because no one ever cared about you in the first place; this family, this place, is all you'll ever know."

Jace's face was pale, paler than a vampire, and his mouth was hanging open. Valentine had spoken to him harshly before, cruelly, violently, but never so horribly bland and honest. Though he hated him, Jace had always clung to a few fond memories, moments in his life where he felt like he had a father; to know that he was nothing to the man who had raised him from an infant, nothing but an opportunity, stung just a bit.

"At least we got that figured out," Jace finally managed to croak.

"Yes," agreed Valentine. "Now, go."

Jace left then, left before Valentine could say anymore and get any more rises out of him, and almost stumbled over his own feet as he took the stairs two at a time. He hit the landing, gasping as if he were in pain and clutched his hair tightly. _Everything, everything he ever did for you, was just because you fit his plans. He didn't care, he never did…all your childhood no one cared. _

"Something wrong, little brother?" Jace's head jerked up and he found Jonathan's dark eyes appraising him, smirking ever so slightly, but alight with curiosity too. "You look troubled, something I can help with?"

"Get away from me," Jace hissed and made to pass him but Jonathan's hand shot out and gripped his upper arm tightly, forcing him to look at the rune on his arm.

"You forget, Jace, about this little rune of ours, our connection. I can feel what you do, Jace. So, what did daddy tell his favorite little boy today? Life not what you thought it would be?" Jonathan's eyes sparkled with delight.

"Let me go." Jace tugged and Jonathan threw him up against the wall.

"I like it," Jonathan murmured softly. "I never had emotions like this before, _your_ emotions, and I like them. All this fear, all this angst, all this despair, is that what you hopeless little humans feel when my father is around? I'll admit, I'm jealous that he inspires that in you with nothing so much as words." He laughed as Jace's cheeks flushed. "So, what was it Jace?"

"I said, let me go!" Jace shoved his shoulder against Jonathan who slammed him back, this time with enough force to force the air from his lungs. "Stop!"

"You know," Jonathan said sweetly, "one day, Valentine is going to die, and I'll lead the Clave after him. Think of all the fun things you and I can do then. Not that I really have to wait until he's dead…" Jonathan looked over his shoulder, into the sitting room. "Clary's in there right now, painting, shall we go visit?"

"No," Jace said sharply.

Jonathan hummed. "So, that's what fear feels like."

"Don't," Jace said urgently.

"Desperation, too," laughed the other boy. "You're too much fun, Jace."

Jace could feel himself shaking with pent up rage. "If you ever do anything to hurt her I'll-"

"Jace?" It was Jocelyn, and she looking between the two boys curiously. "Jace, are you alright?"

"I was looking for you," he said smoothly, his eyes not leaving Jonathan.

"What a coincidence, because I was looking for you, too," she laughed softly. "I have a surprise for you."

_Surprise_? Jace wondered. "Really?"

Jocelyn smiled widely and came over, wrapping and arm around his shoulder and pulling him out of Jonathan's grip. "Yes, come with me, and we'll talk. Jonathan, I think Valentine is looking for you."

"Of course, Mother," Jonathan shrugged, the anger leaving him at once.

Jocelyn led Jace from the stairs and into the kitchen where a pot of water was coming to a boil. Her eyes flicked over Jace, but she didn't see any bruises. "Has Clary had her language yet?"

"No," Jace said, walking around the kitchen and studying the vegetables that still needed to be cut. "I asked Valentine, but…she has more important things to learn right now."

Jocelyn nodded. "I'd like you to keep an eye on her, Jace."

Jace looked up from the unskinned potato to meet her hard gaze. "I have been, Jocelyn."

"Keep doing that then, please," she said and returned to her water. "Do you remember Aline?"

"Is this my surprise?"

"She's coming to take lessons with Clary; I told Valentine I think it's a good idea for Clary to have _proper _friends." Jocelyn dumped chicken into the water. "You two were friends, weren't you?"

"She's related to the Lightwoods," said Jace and regretted using the name. "Yes, I knew her."

"Well, you know, Aline is enrolled in the academy in Idris, and I can only assume that Alec and Isabelle are there too. I'm sure she might even have class with them." She didn't look up, but Jace knew what Jocelyn meant. "She might even speak with them."

Jace nodded mutely. "When will she be joining us?"

"The start of next week. I don't suppose you'll have any problems with that?"

_Just what I need, for Aline to see Valentine clouting me around. _"No, none."

Jace turned away but when he looked back, Jocelyn was looking at him again. He saw the smallest glint of something in her eyes, something sad and immeasurably lonely, and he wondered where all _her_ friends were. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped forward and her head bent; she had lost something to this, but what it was, Jace wasn't sure yet.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

_**Simon**_

_Five days, it's been five days since I've had even a drop of blood…how long can a vampire go without blood?_

…_five days._

"Stop looking at me like that," Magnus leaned his cheek against the cold wall.

"Like what?"

The warlock's eyes opened slowly, staring long and hard at Simon. "Like you're going to attack me; how long has it been since you had any blood?"

"Five days," Simon said at once, wondering if Magnus was going to offer him some sort of alternative. A spell that might dissuade hunger, or put him to sleep, or even turn water into the life saving liquid.

His hopes were met with a smirk. "That blows."

"I'm aware it _blows_," Simon growled, "but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with it. How long can a vampire go before they need blood?"

Magnus shrugged lazily. "I don't know, indefinitely, I suppose, but you'll become incredibly weak. You won't be able to walk, or talk, or move at all really-which, might be an improvement for me come to think of it."

"Thanks, Magnus," Simon grunted, and stared down at his hands, studying the pale veins in his wrists. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

Magnus's eyes popped open. "Don't you think you've experimented with exotic types of blood enough after Jace?" he asked sarcastically. "Not that it matters, but my blood is almost a thousand years old and full to the bursting with magic."

"Would it matter?" Simon wondered. "Is it like wine? I'll take a glass of your finest Bane Merlot, hold the lemon."

Magnus shot him an ugly glower. "You don't put lemon twists in wine, you moron."

"It was a joke," Simon muttered and returned to tracing his veins. "Can I drink my own blood?"

"No, you've already taken the nutrients out of it," Magnus said, and his eyes closed again. "You need fresh blood or you'll start to deteriorate."

Simon shuddered at the mention of the word _deteriorate_, images from chemistry labs when hydrochloric acid would eat up white crystals. It had been fun then. "But I won't die?"

"You'll wish you had," Magnus sighed.

Simon turned to say something nasty back to Magnus, but saw with a start that the warlock looked sickly. His skin was a sallow with purple bruises under his eyes, and his hair was lank and dirty. Simon's eyes wandered down Magnus's body and he saw that beneath the tattered shirt and pants, he had a number of ugly bruises and scrapes, some bleeding, some bright red. Under closer inspection, he saw the man's chest was rising and falling irregularly.

"Are you alright, Magnus?"

"Do I look alright, Simon?" Magnus snapped, but he sighed when Simon's eyes flashed defensively. "I am well enough, but, if you must know, I could do with a long sleep in an actual bed and some access to some herbs."

Simon nodded his head. "I'm sure someone will come for us soon."

"You really think that?" Magnus asked curiously. "Do you really think Valentine is going to show us any mercy? I'm a bisexual high warlock, and you're a daylighter vampire who used to date his daughter. He's not going to be taking us out of here anytime soon."

"But he can't leave us here?" Simon looked shocked. "It'll kill us."

"I don't think he cares either way," Magnus said thoughtfully. "In the grand scheme of things, we're not that important to Valentine. Just things he can use."

Simon's mind raced to Clary. "You don't _actually_ think he's keeping me alive just so he can punish Clary?" The idea that he was so pivotal to someone so clearly important left a strange tingling in his stomach, and he thought of his best friend. "Is he going to hurt her?"

Magnus eyed him closely. "Do you really think after all the trouble she's given him, he won't? Valentine doesn't seem like the sort of man who is just going to brush that all off. But, Jocelyn is with her, so at least her mother can protect her."

"Jace will be with her," Simon said at once.

"You think so?"

Simon laughed hollowly. "She drove him half mad when he loved her and they thought they were brother and sister; now he knows he can have her. He's not going to let her go."

"Then even worse for him, I suppose," Magnus said. "Valentine already had a keen interest him, tack onto that he was living with the Lightwoods, helping fight Valentine, and working with Lucian, and he's got himself into quite a mess, don't you think?"

Simon considered the young man he had grown, oddly enough, to like. Jace had always been so stubborn, so cruel, so sneering, but it had all been born out of a broken childhood. And, what was more important, he really could help Clary. Simon had hoped for so long that he could be the person who would be there for Clary, that he could be the one she turned to when she needed help, but he knew better now. She was meant to be with Jace, no matter how much it pained him.

"Valentine won't kill him, will he?"

"I haven't the slightest notion about what goes through the man's head, but, I think it's safe to assume he's going to keep him alive as long as he can. He seemed fond of the boy."

Simon shuddered. "I wonder what that's like."

"Curious to find out?"

Simon jerked and Magnus started. The bars across from them in their cell, that had one moment been empty, where now filled in by the form of a tall, blond, handsome young man. Simon's fangs descended and Magnus's fingers twitched when they recognized the other person smirking back at them.

"Sebastian," Simon hissed.

"Jonathan," Magnus corrected.

"I'd say it's nice seeing you again, but, frankly, it's not." Jonathan moved into the light of their torch and inclined his head to both of them. "I couldn't help but hear you discussing my dear little sister, and I stopped to listen."

"Not polite to eavesdrop," Simon muttered.

"It's not polite to talk about people's families," Jonathan returned sharply. "So, I trust you like your new accommodations?"

"Could do with a window," Magnus said conversationally. "Maybe a bed or two. Why?"

Jonathan strolled along the length of their cell. "I can't do much for a décor, but perhaps for the company." He smiled like a razor.

Simon's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"While I'm not sure I can bring you precious, little Clary, maybe you'd like a visit from Ms. Lightwood?"

Simon felt himself lurch forward. "What have you done with the Lightwoods?"

Jonathan laughed. "The Lightwoods are gone, my father and I dismantled the family and placed Isabelle and Alec in an adoptive family."

"Dismantled?" Magnus asked, narrowing his eyes. "What have you done to them?"

"Why are _you_ worried?" Jonathan sneered, curling his lip at the sight of Magnus. "You're a warlock, and hardly interested in shadowhunters…or are you? Are you and that Lightwood boy still…_infatuated_?"

Magnus flushed through his pallor. "They were my friends," he said evenly.

"Of course they were," Jonathan said. "It might interest you to know, warlock, that we severed the bond between Jace and Alec. I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

Simon frowned in confusion. "What do you mean-"

"You did _what_?" Magnus was on his feet, his eyes wide. "Do you know what that does to shadowhunters? I know you don't give a damn about Alec, but I thought Valentine would at least balk at hurting Jace."

"Jace is fine," Jonathan said, and there was a sour note to it, but he lifted his arm and revealed the mark, glowing on his skin. "He's _my_ parabatai now."

Simon didn't know much about shadowhunters, but he could still remember the importance Jace had always placed on being parabatai, the reverence in his voice whenever he spoke of his and Alec's bond. "But, I thought those bonds were supposed to be forever?"

"Times are changing," Jonathan shrugged. "Jace is better off with me, anyway. Let's face it, he was bonded to a disgrace of a shadowhunter, a coward in love with another man. Jace needs a better older brother."

"Alec has been his parabatai since they were children," Simon said loudly. "You can't just break that up."

"Well, we did, and it's been working find so far, mind you, I haven't actually _seen _Alec, and I can't attest to his current state." Jonathan's expression of concern didn't really reach his eyes.

Simon's anger, which had been deep-seated already, sprung forward. "How do you people live with yourselves? You've ruined a person's life, completely, utterly, ruined it, and you think it's all a joke? Alec is a person! Who cares if he's gay or in love with a warlock? It doesn't make him any less deserving of life."

"I could disagree," Jonathan pointed out politely.

"Yes, well, what about you?" Simon snapped back, and he didn't know where he had found the courage for it. "You're part demon! You think it's wrong for Alec to love another man, well, what about you? You don't love _anyone_!"

Magnus was staring at Simon, shocked by his outburst. Jonathan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You think you're so brave, vampire?"

_No, not even a bit, but I've got the Mark Clary gave me, so what are you going to do about it? _"No, but I think I'm right."

Jonathan drew up against the bars, his eyes glittering. Softly, he said, "But you are _so_ wrong, vampire." His hungry eyes bore into Simon, searching for something, anything, he might use to scare the other boy. However, Simon gave nothing. "You will find that I am full of surprises."

"I'll find you're full of shi"-

"Simon!" Magnus snapped, making a shooing gesture at him. "Why have you come, Jonathan?"

"Only to see how our favorite Downworlders are doing," Jonathan laughed. "And a few other things besides. My father and I have a few things planned, and it's important that you two be, well…alive, when we begin them."

"Is this how you and Valentine plan to keep things calm? Threaten everyone who dares to challenge you with people they love?" Magnus asked, standing up. His fingers were, surprisingly, sparking on the ends.

"Just Clary and Isabelle," Jonathan shrugged. "You, vampire, are going to make your debut _very_ soon. We have plans for my dear little sister, and we don't want Clary digging her heels in as we do it."

Simon snarled. "I'm not going to let you hurt Clary."

"If you refuse, we'll hurt her," Jonathan returned. "Either way, Clary loses in this game, but if you go along with it, vampire, she won't have to be hurt."

_**Aline**_

The carriage jostled as Aline watched Alicante pass by, and she entered into the center circle, where the most prominent members of the Clave lived. They towered over her home, stories and stories, with sloping front drives and beautiful gardens and lawns. She felt a pang for her home, for her elegant sitting room and warm, crackling fire. This place was too lavish, too extravagant.

_Just remember why you're here,_ she said to herself, breathing a little unevenly. _You're going to be friends with Valentine's daughter and be a good influence on her. You're going to do it because your parents will be punished if you don't._

The carriage drew up to a large, sloping lawn with a paved drive before it. As they trundled up it, Aline caught a glimpse of the finely manicured lawn with trim hedges and blooming flower beds. The house, when they drew level with it, was pale yellow with white accents and large bay windows. It was quite picturesque.

When the horses drew to a stop, Aline's heart sputtered. _I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't-_

"Jace?" she gasped as the front door opened and out came a familiar handsome face capped with golden hair.

He smirked and opened the door for her. "Aline, it's pleasant seeing you up here."

"Is it?" she asked, and eyed him curiously.

Jace didn't exactly look tortured, but there was a certain slump to his shoulder and purple shadows under his eyes that suggested he was more than a little distressed. He caught the underlying question and dropped his eyes. "Well, we don't have a lot of company, at least none I'm allowed to speak with. Here, I'll show you where you'll be taking class."

Aline swallowed. "Who teaches?"

"Jocelyn," Jace said casually. "She enjoys spending time with Clary, and is rather…lenient, in most aspects." There was another meaning to those words, and Aline knew at once what it was.

"Do you take the class as well?"

Jace looked away. "No, I'm not a student anymore; Valentine believes I am more than qualified to take up a place in the Clave. I'm just waiting till I turn twenty-one."

"What do you do then?" Aline wondered as Jace opened the door for her. "How do you spend your time?"

"You're about to find out," he said darkly, and ushered her in.

Aline was stunned by what she saw. The house was enormous, with tall ceilings and lots of natural light pouring in through windows. Opposite the doors was a wide stairwell that led to a second floor that looked down upon the first. She saw many paintings of shadowhunters and a few of the Angel. There were plush rugs on a floor that had been waxed to a shimmer. She heard soft voices coming from the room next door.

One of the doors was open slightly, and upon Jace closing the front ones, it opened wider by a beautiful, red haired woman. "Jace, is that you with Aline?"

"Yes, Jocelyn," Jace answered politely. Aline shot him a look to see how he felt about the woman. She saw that his face was almost blank, but for the warm glow in his eyes. When the woman smiled at him, he straightened up a little and his frown softened.

"Well, wonderful," said Jocelyn, and then came out with a very welcoming look. "Hello, Aline, I'm Jocelyn, Valentine's wife and Clary's mother. I'm so happy your parents let you come."

Aline took the hand Jocelyn offered and shook it. "Well, Clary and I got on well, and I've been cooped up in that house for so long…I thought it would be nice."

"And do you draw much?" she asked, herding Aline and Jace into the room.

"No…not really. My parents didn't see the need." Aline shot her a look, but Jocelyn seemed unconcerned.

"Well, lessons are lessons, they're there to help you improve," Jocelyn shrugged. "Jace, would you like to play for us a bit?"

"Of course, what do you want?"he asked, looking at the piano.

"Fur Elise," Clary called from her place by the window.

Aline checked on the spot of the sitting room, impressed by the beautiful proportions and pallet. The book shelves were covered in more than just books, and there was a grand piano Jace was warming up. Clary, who was waiting by the window with two art easels, looked as surprised to see Aline there as Aline was with the room.

"Hello, Aline," Clary said after a beat. "You're painting with me?"

"Yes," she said, trying to express in her eyes all she wanted to say. "Yes, your father invited me."

"Yes, of course," said Clary, and looked away out the window.

Aline drew level with Clary and was shocked by how thin she was. Clary had always been small, but now she looked positively emaciated, and there was a nervous twitch in the way she rubbed her finger tips together. Her eyes were small and sunken, and her skin was pale as snow. Even her clothing was worn and dirty, torn in some places, patched in others.

"So, you two, I thought perhaps we could paint a nice scene today…the city circle?" Jocelyn drew up to them and smiled at Clary with plaintive eyes. "The trees have finally begun to turn in the forest, and I know you love painting fall landscapes."

"Yes, mother," Clary said in her dull voice. Aline glanced at her, confused by her blankness; when she had seen Clary and Jocelyn's reunion, it had been a tearful, loving affair. This distance was odd.

"Right, well, it's always best to start with the foreground in these cases," Jocelyn continued, now for Aline's benefit. "I'll get the paints and you two can start; I'll be in the next room, doing some reading for the Clave if you need me."

Aline watched Clary carefully as they began, following her brush strokes and hand movements so as not to ruin the canvas. As she went, Jace played one song, then another, and she wondered if that really was what Jace did, just sit and entertain while the world moved on. Some way through, Clary spoke to Aline.

"How has your family been holding up, Aline?" It was polite, empty, and careful.

"Oh, very well," Aline said, a little more loudly than she intended. "I've been attending the school recently while my parents return to work with the Clave."

"And how do you like school?" Clary asked next, and Aline wasn't sure, but she thought Jace's music softened.

"It's very strict," Aline said in a measured voice. "I-I enjoy it very much, though," she added quickly.

"Are your friends there?" Clary pressed.

"Some of them…" Aline glanced at Jace and then stared at her painting. "I haven't seen the Lightwoods, though, but I don't think all the families have sent their children to school yet. I'm sure they'll be there next week." The music returned and what keen light in Clary's eyes left. "I heard there was going to be a ball next month for all the shadowhunters to celebrate the new Clave. Are you going?"

Clary's eyes darted to Jace, who looked surprised by the news but very bland. "I-I don't know. My father is very concerned with the state of my education, and I'm not sure I can waste an entire day getting ready for a dance."

"I'm sure we would all want to see you," Aline pushed. "People wonder what happened to Valentine's daughter."

Aline was shocked to see that Clary looked panicked. "Wh-why would they say that?" she stuttered. "People don't think my father did anything to me, do they? He didn't, you know, he was just worried that someone might try to hurt me if I was in the public eye."

"People don't think-"

"And the reason I don't go to school is because I'm far too much behind the rest of you. My father is training me." Clary's eyes darted to Jace and his face was carefully looking away. "People don't think I'm in trouble, do they?"

"No!" Aline said quickly. "No, it's just that everyone wonders where you went. Of course, my parents weren't really surprised. They were just pleased you wanted to see me. They'd love for you to come over."

"That's a very generous offer."

Aline felt the air rush out of her and she saw that Clary's hand jerked oddly to the side, streaking red across her carefully painted trees. Jace stopped playing the piano. _It's Valentine,_ she thought, quaking. _Valentine Morgenstern is right behind me. Don't say the wrong thing, don't say the wrong thing, don't get your parents in trouble. _

"Father," said Clary formally, turning about to face him. "I thought you were meeting with the Clave."

"I was," he said, eyebrow raised. "However, I asked your mother to do a little work on the side for the Clave, and I thought I would come and see how that was going."

"Oh," said Clary. "She's in the next room over."

"I know that." Valentine's eyes flicked over her and there was a slight annoyance. "Clarissa, we have company over, I would have thought you might want to make a better impression."

Clary's eyes got a little wider. "Well, I was painting and I thought-"

"My apologies, Ms. Penhollow," said Valentine over her. "Usually, Clarissa isn't in such a temperament."

Aline's mouth was dry and she had to swallow twice before she found her voice. "Well, she probably didn't want to ruin any of her clothing."

"A gracious excuse," Valentine said, offering her an empty, polite smile. "Clarissa, go and change at once."

"But, if I get paint on it-"

"Clarissa." Valentine's grey eyes fixed on her. "If you are so concerned about getting paint on your blouse, you will not paint for the rest of the day. Go and change and then begin your rune study."

Aline waited for her to say something back, to tell Valentine to go to hell, to say something like the old Clary would have, but, instead, her eyes dropped. "Yes, Father."

Valentine shook his head and then looked to Aline. "My apologies for this, Ms. Penhollow. Since your parents aren't expecting you home for another thirty minutes, Jace can take you around the grounds."

Aline glanced up and then over to Jace, but she was surprised to see his face was set in a suspicious frown. He was staring at Valentine darkly. "Are you sure I shouldn't go help Jocelyn?"

"I am quite sure," Valentine said in clipped tones, and Aline wondered what secret battle was being fought between them. "I'm sure Ms. Penhollow would love to see the back garden or the stables, so don't be rude."

Jace grit his teeth and rose to join them. "Aline," he said with a thin smile.

Aline drew as close to Jace as she thought appropriate. She knew the story of Jace and Clary, of their love, and of their struggle. She didn't know if Valentine knew, and if he did, she didn't want him thinking she was trying to seduce his daughter's lover. His grey eyes, though, didn't seem to care and he turned on his heels, heading not toward the room where Jocelyn was, but into the hall and up the stairs to where Clary had gone.

"Quickly," said Jace, and he drew Aline away. They left the house and were soon crossing the yard to the back garden, Jace's face dark.

"Can we speak?" Aline whispered.

Jace breathed out. "Not for long, but we should be safe."

"What's going on in this house?" she murmured, looking back at the towering structure. "Why aren't you and Clary allowed to leave? Why aren't you in school?"

"Valentine doesn't want us out of his sight," Jace muttered bitterly. "He thinks I don't need to be in school, that my charms are better used here, keeping Jocelyn happy."

"And Clary? Is he really concerned about her training?"

Jace paused in their walk, and he glanced back at the house, his eyes narrowing in on a third story window. "Yes, but only as a meaning of pride; he doesn't want his children to be anything less than the best. What is really is, is that Clary is Valentine's daughter; he thinks he owns her and doesn't want her running around underfoot."

Aline mulled this over. "Will he ever let you leave?"

Jace shook his head. "I don't know…if we're with Jocelyn, maybe, but he's very strict. He thinks Clary might try and run."

"Is that why he has you?"

Jace turned his face away and Aline thought he looked pained. "Partly. How much does the public know about Jonathan?"

"Valentine's son?" Aline frowned. "Not much. I guess everyone knows who he is, and what a great warrior he is. They talk about it in school, sometimes, too; we're all supposed to strive to be as good as him. Why?"

"He's not what you think," Jace said urgently. "Aline, you can't repeat this, Valentine will know where it came from." Aline bobbed her head. "Jonathan isn't part angel, he's part demon."

"That's not possible," Aline said, looking horrified.

"He is," Jace denied. "Jocelyn was horrified when he was born, because he was born part demon, and it was part of the reason she left him in the first place. Valentine insane, Aline, and he thought that if he could give Jocelyn back her son, she'd love him again."

"Is he trying to fix Jonathan?"

Jace looked down, and Aline saw tension in every line of his body; when he met her eyes, she saw a very painful look in his. "He can't. He's using me instead."

Aline's eyes narrowed. "Using you?"

"He made me come and live with them so I could take Jonathan's place with Jocelyn. He's got Isabelle and Alec somewhere, and unless I do what he says, he'll hurt them. He already took Alec away."

"Where is he?" Aline asked.

Jace barked a laugh. "I don't mean he physically took him away, I mean he…he severed the bond between us, Aline. Alec and I aren't parabatai anymore. He made me do it, and then he forced me to-to be Jonathan's parabatai."

Aline's face had gone pale and her gaze flicked over Jace, searching for some sign of his trauma. "Are you okay?"

Jace couldn't meet her gaze when he said, "I will be soon."

"I'm so sorry," Aline murmured. She looked around her, at the sloping lawns, blossoming gardens, and extravagant house; she felt that ever present will of Valentine pushing her down; she wanted to go home. "How can we make this better?"

Jace ran a hand through his hair. "I don't have a clue."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

_**Clary**_

All Clary could think, as she pushed hanger after hanger, was how much she hated dresses. It seemed like she had spent her previous life in jeans with holes in the knees, shirts with paint splotches, and scuffed tennis shoes. Before her was an entire wardrobe of nothing but dresses, skirts, blouses, tights, and formal shoes. Then only pants she owned were black fighting gear that was washed every day and folded neatly and placed in a drawer. The jeans and shirt she'd worn were scavenged from her mother.

_Why do I have to wear a dress?_ Clary thought angrily._ What's so important about wearing a dress when Aline is over?_ Furious, Clary chose a mauve, knee-length number with a low, straight neck, wide straps, and belt across the waist; she threw it on her bed and then began tossing shoes aside.

"Why do you push me so, Clarissa?"

Clary stood up straight, but didn't turn to face her father. "I didn't think it was prudent to be wearing something so nice if I was just going to ruin it."

Valentine took Clary's shoulder and spun her around to face him. "If you paint so poorly that you need to wear trash clothing, perhaps you shouldn't be painting at all. It was meant to be a gift to your mother, having time with you, but if you treat it so crudely, I will have to revoke it. Aline can take rune lessons with you, if you must."

Clary felt her father's fingers squeezing her arm painfully, and she tried to tug away, but he jerked her forward. "You're hurting me."

"Good," Valentine said sharply. "You're an embarrassment to the name Morgenstern, and you know it. I should have left you to die in that cellar."

"Can't have my mom missing me, though, can you?" Clary snapped, and finally managed to pull herself free. Either the words or the action annoyed Valentine, because his hand snapped across her face sharply. The force sent Clary tumbling sideways into her bed.

"If you think you can hide behind your mother, you're wrong," Valentine said evenly, and Clary scrambled back as he advanced on her. "While your mother is the reason you are still alive, she certainly _cannot _protect you from retribution. Jocelyn knows that you must be trained, and she knows that requires discipline."

Clary was holding her sore cheek. "She won't just let you hurt me."

Valentine smiled. "She didn't know I beat Jace, and she won't know what I do to you. Now, take those filthy clothes off."

"Are you insane?" Clary demanded. "It's just a shirt-"

Valentine lunged at her, catching the collar of her shirt and tearing it. Clary shrieked, and Valentine covered her mouth before Jocelyn heard her. She squirmed back and forth while he tugged the tatters of the shirt off her, and she managed to kick him in the chest as he tossed it aside. Valentine grunted in annoyance more than pain, but fell back, clutching his rubs. He reached for his daughter, who was clambering off the bed and racing for the door.

_Mom_, she thought frantically. _Get to Mom._

Clary was in the hall suddenly, and she raced for the stairs. She didn't care how she looked, half naked with a bruised cheek and tangled hair, she had to get away from her father. She heard Valentine's angry cries behind her, and she took the first staircase, two steps at a time

"Clarissa!" Valentine snarled after her.

Clary hit the landing, glancing back and forth for the next stair down to the ground level and her mother. She darted to the stairs and reached the first step when something solid hit her squarely in the side. Clary hit the floor and she saw stars in her eyes; sitting on top of her was Jonathan. He grinned down at her, eyes sparkling maliciously.

"Little sister, what are you doing?" he asked in a horrible patronizing voice.

"Get off me!" Clary ordered, hitting his chest with her small fists. "Get _off_!"

"I get the feeling if I did that you might not stay put," Jonathan said pleasantly. "Now, what are you doing, dressed so…_invitingly_?"

Clary stopped in struggle to look up at Jonathan, and she realized very suddenly that she wasn't wearing a shirt and that Jonathan was sitting on her, their bodies touching up and down. Her eyes narrowed. "Get off me, Jonathan," she said slowly and clearly.

Jonathan smiled and placed the pad of his thumb on her lower lip, forcing her mouth to open. He watched her pulse race, and her eyes dart back and forth. "Jace and I…we have a connection, you know, and sometimes, I get these _feelings_ from him. Usually, I don't feel human emotions, usually, it's just bland contempt, maybe a bit of pride, but that's all. These _human_ emotions, they're very interesting." Jonathan's thumb left her lip, but his hand came to rest on her throat. "Jace wants you. As your older brother, I feel as though I ought to do something about that. The dreams he has…such naughty thoughts."

"You're sick," Clary spat.

"I'm sick?" Jonathan laughed and his hand dropped to her collar bone, rubbing small circles with his thumb. "I'm not the one thinking about you like this, lying beneath me, panting. Of course, when Jace thinks about it, you're usually not _this_ covered." One of Jonathan's hands reached down to the waistband of her jeans. "Jace would prefer you naked."

"Stop it!" Clary yelped when Jonathan's hand tugged on jeans. "Let me go!"

"He even thinks about you fighting back sometimes," Jonathan chuckled. "I really should have a chat with him about you. After all, you're-" Jonathan stopped speaking, and his head snapped up. A moment later, he was standing up, holding Clary up against the wall by her hair and hands. "I have her, Father."

Valentine approached slowly, taking his time while Clary struggled in vain. "Why do you insist on doing this, Clarissa? Why must you prove again and again to me how little I love you?" Valentine drew level with her and jerked her chin to face him. "Why do you make me hate you?"

Clary tore her chin out of his hand and spat at his feet. "The feeling is mutual."

"Is it?" Valentine asked, more curiously than angrily. "Jonathan, bring her, we have a lesson to teach young Clarissa."

_Not again_, Clary thought as Jonathan grabbed both her wrists in one hand and covered her mouth with the other. She fought all the way back up the stairs, down the hall, and to her room, but Jonathan never lost his grip. _Jace, where are you?_

Valentine snapped the door to her room shut and she was jerked out of her thoughts. "So, you hate me, Clarissa?"

Jonathan didn't let her go, but he uncovered her mouth. "You kidnapped my mom. You're holding all my friends hostage. You ruined my life."

"I gave you Jace, didn't I?" asked Valentine, enjoying the effect the boy's name had on her. "I've given you a home, I've given you protection, I've given you an education, I've even given you clothing…if you'd be willing to wear them."

These last words were spoken in a low, dangerous voice and Clary looked up at him. "You don't care about me, you only care about how it looks to everyone else! You want the whole world to think you're a loving father and husband, but they know the truth! We all _hate you_!"

Valentine's eyes darkened and he drew level with her. Clary tried to free herself, but Jonathan forced her to stand before her father, unable to protect herself. "You think that, my dear? You think everyone hates me? Did you know that your mother loves me?"

"No." Clary shook her head. "You don't know what love is."

Valentine laughed. "You do? I'll tell you something, then, Clarissa, because you're such a grown young woman." Clary twisted in Jonathan's arms. "The night I brought you back to Jocelyn, she forgave me for the past."

"She'd never-"

Valentine grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. "She and I made love."

_Liar_, was Clary's first desperate thought, but there was triumph in his eyes. _He's lying, he's lying because he wants me to think my mother hates me. _"She wouldn't. She loves Luke!"

Clary saw a dark look cross Valentine's face and she knew she must have said something that angered him. It was a small victory, though, because Valentine hissed and struck her across the face one, twice, three times. She felt tears welling in her eyes and running down her cheeks. "Don't _ever _speak such things again, Clarissa."

"I _hate _you!" Clary sobbed, thrashing back and forth in Jonathan's grasp. "_I hate you_!"

"And I you," sneered Valentine. "You're a waste of my time, Clarissa, and a waist of good blood. The only thing that spared your life was your mother's love, and that's mine now."

Jonathan, sensing Clary's weakness, released his hold on her, and she collapsed to the floor. Valentine and Jonathan looked down on her dispassionately, but she blinked back the tears that were threatening to pour and launched herself at her father viciously. It was a waste because Valentine picked her up and deposited her on the bed. She considered fighting again, but Jonathan looked ready to hit her.

"This dress is quite appropriate," Valentine said, looking over the dress she had tossed aside. "Now, put it on."

Clary paused, confused. _I hate you, I hate everything about you, _she thought as she stood and covered herself with the dress, but Valentine's eyes were just as bland as they had been before. _He doesn't care what I look like, he doesn't even think I'm human._

"Put it on, Clarissa, quickly." Valentine raised one eyebrow. "Hurry up!"

"Get out of my room, then!" Clary snapped.

"So I can come back and find you pouting on your bed?" Valentine said coolly. "I think not. Get dressed and make yourself presentable for my inspection. I won't have a daughter less than perfect." As he said it, his eyes roved from her freckles, to her plain face, to her messy hair, and he frowned.

"Then-then turn around!" she ordered, and her eyes moved to Jonathan, who was smirking all over at the sight of her half-naked and helpless.

"I think she's shy, Jonathan," laughed Valentine, and his eyes were gleaming. "Not quite sure of herself as a woman yet; how do you expect to impress young Jace if you're not even comfortable in your own skin?"

"Shut up-"

"When Jocelyn was your age, she was certainly secure in herself; your mother was a woman, beautiful, powerful, commanding…how she raised such a pathetic excuse for a daughter I'll never know."

"Just stop." Clary looked away, and though she didn't want it to matter, Clary felt her cheeks heat.

"Embarrassed?" Valentine drew a little closer and smirked. "You're _sixteen_, Clarissa; don't you think it's about time you became a woman?"

Jonathan chuckled. "I pity Jace the life he'll have once these two are married."

Valentine shared a laugh at his expense and then turned back to Clary, who was staring with her mouth open. _Married_? "One day, Clarissa, one day; though how I'll ever convince Jace to go through with it, I don't know. I'll probably have to threaten his family to make that happen."

_He's just being cruel, he's just being cruel to make you feel horrible. _"I'll put the dress on!" Clary finally shouted, swiping her and at him. "I do it!"

Valentine fell silent, but the sneer was still in his eyes and in his smile. Clary turned her back on her father and brother and shimmied the dress over her hips and up onto her shoulders before reaching under and pulling her pants off. Valentine watched carefully before coming up behind her and running his fingers through her hair; Clary tried to pull away, but Valentine pulled her back.

"Let me go!"

Valentine hit Clary hard enough in the side that she doubled over and had to curl up in a ball. Some of the tears she had been holding back dribbled down her face and she had to hold back a cry of pain. His hand moved again to her hair, but this time, he twisted it up.

"Brush this mess and pull it back. Put some make-up on too, I don't care what people say about freckles, I find them disgusting."

_**Jace**_

The moment Aline had gone, Jace dashed back to the house. He had had no doubt that Valentine had gone after Clary, and whatever condition he'd left her in-if he'd left her-had been worse than the one before. He entered the house quietly, hoping to sneak past any unwanted eyes and took the stairs two at a time, landing catlike on the landing. The first floor was empty, though, and Jace met no one on his second trip up the stairs. When he began to creep down the hall, though, he heard the softest, muffled sobbing he'd heard in a long time.

_Clary_, he thought at once, and raced to her room.

At first, Jace saw only an empty room, the curtains pulled open for the sunlight to stream in. He glanced around but didn't see Clary; he carefully checked the bathroom, but it was bare too. As he turned to leave, though, he saw a small figure, hunched over on the floor on the opposite side of bed. Small sniffling noises kept coming out of it.

"Clary?" Jace asked, drawing closer. "Clary, are you alright?" Clary jerked out of her ball and looked up to Jace. A hiss slipped through Jace's teeth when he saw the bruise already forming below her left eye and the dried blood on her lower lip. "What happened?" he said, falling to her side and pulling her into him.

"N-nothing," Clary stammered, and wiped at the dry blood. "Don't worry about it."

_Don't worry about it? It's the only thing I ever worry about these days. _Jace reached out and gently inspected her face; the bruise purpling under her eye wasn't the only one: he saw a bright red mark on her right cheek, and a blue area by her right ear. "How did this happen?"

Clary pulled her face away but Jace caught it and pulled back. "Clary, tell me what happened."

"I was supposed to put a dress on but I didn't want to," Clary shrugged.

Jace noticed for the first time that Clary had changed out of her jeans and shirt and was in a pleasant dress. "Valentine told you to wear this?"

Clary nodded. "I didn't want to, and he got mad."

"So he hit you," Jace finished, brushing the pad of his thumb over her bruised eye. His hand moved down to hold hers, but Clary gasped in pain; when Jace looked down, he saw that her wrists were blotched in purple and blue. "What happened here?"

Clary turned away. "Jonathan. He was here too."

Jace flinched internally as it did every time his parabatai was mentioned. Of course, thinking of him around Clary made Jace want to hurt him, but the bond the two shared reverberated through him, reminding him that Jonathan's life was now tied to his. To hurt Jonathan was like hurting himself. His stomach ached at the idea. "What did he want?"

Clary's gaze didn't meet Jace's when she said, "Nothing."

_Liar_, Jace thought gently. "Clary, don't lie."

"Jace," she said, and he could tell by the way she kept looking away that something was bothering her. "I-I think your connection with Jonathan is…well, it's making him feel _things_."

Jace felt an odd stirring in his belly. "What do you mean?"

"He-he tried to-" Clary was looking at Jace's hands on her wrists and saw only Jonathan's long, artist fingers holding her down. "-to kiss me, Jace."

_He tried to kiss me_. Jace stared at her, uncomprehending. He stared at her lowered eyes and trembling lips, at her chest, rising and falling erratically, at her delicate wrists and tangles up limbs. _He tried to kiss me. _

"He tried to _what_?" Jace hissed.

Clary bit her lip. "He said he could feel what you feel, and that it was rubbing off on him. He tried to kiss me."

Jace could feel himself shaking violently. "He tried to kiss you. He held you down and tried to kiss you."

"No, Jace, it's not like that-"

"What else did he do?" snarled Jace. "What _else_?"

Clary was staring at Jace, and she was shocked to see that his pupils were wide and dark, and he seemed beyond himself. Jace, for his part, felt a horrible bubbling anger in his chest, anger he'd never felt before. He knew it was wrong to be furious, because his anger clouded his judgment, but it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter except that Jonathan be punished for having hurt Clary. It took Jace a minute before he realized Clary was speaking to him.

"…suffer for me."

"What?" Jace asked.

"I don't want you going after Jonathan, Jace, you'll only suffer for me," Clary repeated, watching Jace carefully. "Jace, please, calm down. You're scaring me."

_Scaring you? I love you, Clary, and I want the man who hurt you to-_

"Jace, Jonathan said that he could feel what you felt, so what if you're feeling what he feels?" Clary asked softly, gently brushing his hand with three fingers. "Please, loosen your grip on my arm, it's hurting."

Jace's eyes jumped down to his hand around her wrist, and he realized he must have been crushing the bones there. Suddenly, all the anger rushed out of him like a balloon deflating. "I'm sorry, Clary," he whispered, and then lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Jace," Clary sighed, more upset now at seeing Jace so distraught than her own pain. "Do you think it's possible?"

"That I'm feeling Jonathan's emotions?" Jace shuddered as a ghost of the anger he'd just felt passed over him. It made him sick. "I suppose, but I'd rather not consider it. Here, let's just-let's just try and fix you up, okay?"

Before Clary really had time to say otherwise, Jace had helped her to her feet and was leading her to the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the bathtub and found a hand towel. As he tried to bring down the swelling in her cheek, he cursed under his breath.

"This isn't going to work," Jace said, watching the faint purple turn darker and darker. "Your mother is going to see these and ask what happened."

"I'll hide them with makeup," Clary said thoughtfully. "I wish I was as good as Isabelle; she'd know how to hide this."

Jace smirked. "I don't think Isabelle was much in the business of covering up bruises."

"Well, I suppose any man who tried to hit her probably wouldn't live to tell the tale."

Jace opened his mouth to answer, but was hit with that powerful loneliness, the loss of his family. _Yes, Isabelle wouldn't have let any man get the better of her…expect for Valentine, he got the better of her, and now I don't know where she is or what's happened to her. At least she has Alec- _That was too much for Jace, and he slumped a little bit in pain.

"Yes, I'm sure she would know what to do."

Clary watched Jace closely. "You miss them."

Jace turned his focus back on Clary's bruises. "Yes, but it doesn't bring them back to me, so I guess it doesn't matter."

"It does matter." When Jace continued fussing over her, Clary's hand snapped out and caught his. "They're your family, and it should matter to you. Maybe there's some way you can see them again."

"Clary, I don't think…"

"What if I speak to Valentine?" Clary offered. When Jace just stared at her in horror she shrugged. "I'll tell him I'll behave myself-he's always going on about that-and that I'll do whatever he says, and maybe you can mention to my mom-"

"Your mother has enough problems without adding me to it," Jace said quickly. "Clary, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don't think Valentine is going to let me see the Lightwoods." Clary opened her mouth to argue, but Jace kissed her, affectively silencing her next words. "I never thought in all my life I'd lose Isabelle and Alec, I never thought there was something worth losing, but that was before I met you. And the truth is, Clary, that'd I'd rather be here with you, then there without you."

Clary felt the lingering tingle of Jace's kiss. "Jace, you know that I'd do anything to help you."

"I know," he said tiredly, helping her up and leading her to the sink. "I've never met someone like that before, and I guess I'm still getting used to it."

Clary had been staring at herself in the mirror, at the ugly bruises and nasty cut on her lips, but at those words, her eyes moved up to Jace. He was looking away, thinking, and she felt a sudden urge to make him understand that he still had friends, that he was still wanted, that he was loved. She turned about and firmly kissed him on the lips. Jace, who had been thinking about the only other person who had cared about him, Alec, was surprised when he suddenly felt Clary against him. Naturally, his hands wrapped around her waist and he held her against him.

"You'd better," Clary warned him gently, resting her head against his chest. "I don't want to have to go the rest of my life trying to prove to you how much I love you. I expect you to know it."

_**Isabelle**_

Since her disastrous experience with the harp and Mr. Grunald, Isabelle had been keeping mostly to herself, going to her classes each day and biting her tongue every time Malachi or Mr. Grunald made a snide remark. She had come to accept that harp lessons and household chores were a part of her new life. She would sit daily in the lavish sitting room and pluck strings while the old musician complained that she was too harsh, too biting, and she would never produce the beautiful melodies most of his students could. Through all of it, Isabelle simply sat and nodded her head, but she had never been known for her control and decorum.

Isabelle would go to the kitchens after where Myra would be waiting for her, and rant and cry and complain about Mr. Grunald. For her part, Myra turned out to be a very sympathetic, tender woman. She listened to all Isabelle's objections, agreeing when appropriate, and offered her the gentle cajoling her mother never would have. Myra also happened to be very helpful, constantly letting Isabelle go early, or sending her up with food for Alec. Though Isabelle wasn't learning much about cooking, she had at least found an ally in her struggles against Malachi.

Perhaps the best balm for her anger was Emma and her dance lessons. Emma, apparently, commanded some form of respect among the shadowhunters, and though Isabelle had tried to wheedle it out of her, all Emma would say what that "I could not dance with such passion unless I was this passionate about _all aspects_ of my life, could I?"

Malachi would defer to Emma's judgment when it came to lessons, at least, and Emma proved to be a master conspirator. She would demand that Isabelle begin her lessons earlier than usual and then tell Malachi she had to hold her over for extra stretching when in reality, she would send her off early. What was best about these lessons, for Isabelle at least, was that they were her new outlet for her emotions. With her demon hunting taken away from her, Isabelle had grown rather anxious and jumpy, but the constant dance lessons were working the usual stress relief shadowhunting had.

However, life with Malachi had reached its lowest yet. Since he'd attacked Alec, he had expressly forbidden Isabelle to see him. She didn't care, but Alec always begged her to go back to her room when she came to visit him every night. Isabelle had already had a few close shaves, but Myra had always caught Malachi right before he went to look for his ward. She had taken to sneaking up to his room once all the lights were out and Malachi was tucked away for the night, and sleep in his room instead.

One night, though, a week or so after Malachi had attacked Alec, Isabelle couldn't help herself. She went for Alec almost as soon as dinner was done. When she arrived, she was pleased to see that Alec was standing, supporting himself with a chair. Since the attack, Alec had made a point of rising and trying to walk; he was determined to be back on his feet.

"Isabelle," Alec pleaded as he watched his sister close the door silently. "You can't keep doing this. Malachi will find you, and when he does, he'll punish you."

"Oh, don't worry," Isabelle said, waving a hand. "Myra and her son are working for us now, and they're keeping an eye on that old bat. Besides, I've got news."

Alec smiled a bit at Isabelle's words. "News? Well, this is a development."

Isabelle cocked a hip. "Malachi told me there's going to be this huge celebration next month, and all the shadowhunters are expected to attend. The families of prominence are dining together and celebrating in private."

"And so?" Alec pushed off from his chair and managed to find his feet.

"_So_," Isabelle sighed, "Malachi is the Counsel, isn't he? He's a man of _prominence_, and we are his family; we're a _family of prominence_."

"Wonderful," Alec muttered. "We can go sit and listen to traitor shadowhunters agree with themselves."

Isabelle moved to Alec's side, helping him to stand straight. "Alec, you don't get it. Families of prominence. Who is the most prominent family in all of Idris?"

"Valentine," Alec said after a beat.

"Exactly," Isabelle said, excited. "And who would be with Valentine?"

"Jace and Clary." Alec felt a rush at the name if his brother. "You think we'll be able to see them?"

"See them, speak to them, maybe even plan with them!" Isabelle's eyes were gleaming.

"Plan what?" Alec asked.

"Alec, just because we lost this battle doesn't mean the war is over," Isabelle said breathlessly. When Alec looked skeptical, Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Come on, you know Jace, do you really think he's just sitting there, watching while Valentine takes over? I'm sure he and Clary are already trying to plan some sort of escape."

"Jace always wanted a plan," Alec hedged. It seemed too much to hope for, that Jace and Clary were trying to plan some rebellion, but it seemed the only thing to cling to at this point. Alec nodded. "So, what have I got to do?"

"We need to get you better," said Isabelle firmly. "If you're up on your feet, if you're training, Malachi will have to take you. He'll want everyone to see you, anyway."

"And how am I supposed to get better?" Alec asked as one of his knees gave out and he stumbled.

"Emma said she'd help," Isabelle said promptly. "My dance teacher. She said you can come, and while I dance, she'll help you get your strength back with muscle exercises."

Alec barked a laugh. "Izzy, do you really think Malachi is going to let me sit in on your _dance class._ He and Valentine already know I'm gay, and they don't like it; is putting me in a dance class, really likely?"

"You're not in the class," Isabelle said. "Emma is going to tell Malachi that I need an audience to practice in front of, and since you're not really doing anything else, it can be you."

"Is that going to work?"

Isabelle shrugged. "Malachi does whatever Emma tells him, at least where I'm concerned."

Alec bit his lip and Isabelle squeezed his arm. "Alec, please. It's not over, none of it. Clary can make new runes, can't she? Maybe-maybe when all of this is over, she'll be able to free Jace from Jonathan and join you two back together. You and Jace could be parabatai again."

Isabelle knew she had touched on Alec's thoughts when his eyes got wider. "You really think this can work?"

"It has to," Isabelle said. "Because what else is there?"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

_**Jocelyn**_

"How is Clary taking to her new home?" Jocelyn asked, forcing herself to press a little closer to Valentine. She had decided that the best way to discuss her daughter with Valentine was to constantly reassure him that she loved him. She could feel his arm tighten on her waist, pulling her closer.

"She's adjusting," Valentine said shortly, enjoying the feel of Jocelyn in his arms. "I think it will be easier once she really begins her lessons; it will occupy her time most effectively. I also think, that with a little encouragement from Jace, she will settle quite nicely into her new routine."

_Yes, yes, I'm sure Jace is just your latest trick, isn't he? How much do you have to hurt him to make him do what you want?_ Jocelyn considered the young, handsome man she had taken as her son and shuddered to think of the home she had given him. _He was better with the Lightwoods, better with Maryse and Robert then he ever could have been with me._

"I don't know if it's fair, Valentine, to use Jace to coerce Clary into performing her studies," Jocelyn said uncertainly, and she saw something like nervousness flicker in his eyes, but it was quickly becoming irritation. Jocelyn back-tracked. "She can be stubborn though, after all, she is my daughter." Jocelyn smiled, flashing him a sweet look.

"Well, it took a Morgenstern to rein you in, perhaps it will take one to rein her in, too." Valentine ran a hand through Jocelyn's hair. "I have no doubt Jace cares very much for Clarissa, and it's only a matter of time before she sees enough reason for me to reward her."

"Reward her?" Jocelyn's stomach turned and she wondered what he meant by it.

Valentine smiled indulgently. "There is to be a rather large celebration, and, if she decides to comport herself like a young, proper woman, I'll allow her and Jace to attend together."

_Because that's such a reward. _"I'm sure she'd love that. I must say, Valentine, I rather approve of Jace and Clary; how did you ever plan this all out?"

"Plan it? I suppose it is only natural that two children, dosed with the blood of an angel, will be drawn of each other." Valentine tugged Jocelyn and she sighed internally, knowing what she would have to do. "However, I didn't expect that they would be so infatuated with each other."

Jocelyn rolled over, seating herself on Valentine's hips. She bent over and kissed him languorously. "However, I _am _Clary's mother, and I don't know how much I trust that boy around our daughter…if he's anything like you, that is."

Valentine laughed and allowed his hands to explore her body. "Clarissa is as much my daughter as she is yours, and so I will most certainly make sure Jace is appropriate with her."

Jocelyn didn't say much more on the subject, because she could feel bile rising in her throat; she hated Valentine, and she hated what he was doing to her daughter. As Valentine continued kissing her, holding her, stroking her body, and she tried to close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else. For a little while, Jocelyn was capable of hiding in the dream, of seeing another man, a man she loved-and had loved all her life-and it was him touching her instead. But, in the end, when she opened her eyes and relaxed back on the bed, it was Valentine who was smiling in a satisfied sort of way at her.

"We ought to be careful," Valentine teased gently.

"What do you mean?" Jocelyn asked, thinking that Valentine had guessed her true feelings. "Be careful of what?"

Valentine chuckled. "Of you, Jocelyn. I don't know if now is the time to start…ah, _expanding_ _our family_."

Jocelyn flushed. "_Oh_! Oh, well, no-no we don't want that." She tried to swallow down some of her embarrassment. "Unless, I mean…you don't want to."

"Not now, my dear," said Valentine, and he kissed her cheek. "I think we have quite a handful now, and not until Clary settles down do I think I can handle another child."

"Yes, yes, I think that might be better," Jocelyn said, but didn't like the way he had spoken so callously of Clary. "I haven't quite settled myself, to be honest, besides, I'm just so busy with Clary and Jace."

"I can only imagine," Valentine mused, idly twirling a piece of Jocelyn's hair about his finger. "But, just how busy are you?"

Jocelyn considered her answer before she spoke, knowing one wrong word might endanger Clary's life. "I think I could spare some time for other matters, if you have some you'd like me to attend to."

Valentine smiled at her. "You were always by my side during the first rebellion, and I would love to have you there again. I want you to be as active a member of the Clave as you were before."

_You mean spend as much time away from the house as you can make me so you can torment my daughter without my knowing. _"I'd love to, but…well, I want to have time with my children, too. You know, I've spent so much of my time over the last fifteen years working and struggling, and now, that I have time to relax and breathe, I find that I like being a mother."

"It doesn't mean you can't be both," said Valentine quickly, sitting up. "Come with me today, Jocelyn. It's the first Conclave I've organized, and I want you by my side."

"Is the whole family going to be there?"

"No, Jace and Clarissa will remain here," Valentine said guardedly. "I'm going to be leaving Clarissa in Jace's care actually, trusting that he'll be able to instruct her in languages while we're gone."

_Well, so long as _you're _not alone with them…_ "This is important to you," Jocelyn mused, looking into Valentine's eyes. She knew what her answer had to be, there was no other option. "I'll do it."

Valentine's smile was victorious while he took her hands and kissed them. "It will be as it was before: the two of us, leading the Clave into a bright new future. The life we should have been leading all along."

Jocelyn turned to look away, thinking fast. "It does seem so unfair, though, leaving Clary and Jace locked up here while the rest of us go off to Clave business."

"What do you propose?" Valentine watched Jocelyn closely. "They're both too young to be proper members of the Clave, besides, Jace never was truly inducted into it…"

"How do you mean?" said Jocelyn sharply. "He is as much a shadowhunter as any of us, _more_ in some ways."

"I meant only that he was, and always has been, living a life that was never his." Valentine looked rueful. "I meant him to be _your_ son, but that meant that he never knew his own family, his own heritage, Jace isn't even his name."

"He's still a member of the Clave," Jocelyn argued.

"Just barely, and I don't want him at a Conclave until I know I can trust him," he said, and Jocelyn knew there was no point in arguing.

"I'm sure he's loyal to you," Jocelyn said, more like an afterthought than anything else. "You raised him, Valentine, and I have no doubt he is fond of you. You're the only father he's ever known."

Valentine smirked at Jocelyn's dismissal of Robert Lightwood as his father. "I only want what is best for the boy."

"Best for your _children_," said Jocelyn meaningfully. "What I was actually getting at was that Jace has been so well-behaved lately, that perhaps he deserves a reward."

"Oh?" Valentine raised an eyebrow.

"I know he wants to go out and visit the rest of Alicante," Jocelyn began. "I'm sure he'd be grateful if you let him explore the city…and take Clary with him."

"Are you referring to a date, my dear?" Valentine asked, smiling at her.

"I think Jace would be very happy with it, and besides," Jocelyn said, tossing her hair out of her face, "I want him to be happy. I think the loss of the Lightwoods, especially Isabelle and Alec, has really upset him. You remember how he tried to sneak out of this house to visit them the first night he was here?"

"He hasn't done it since," Valentine pointed out.

"Yes, but only because he hurt himself. Please, Valentine, I look at him and I see this sad, young man, and I think Clary is the only person who really makes him happy anymore." _Anyway, the farther from this house Clary is, the better. _"If you think they need an escort-?"

"No, no that's not necessary," Valentine sighed, looking thoughtful. "You really want this?"

"You and I had all the time in the world when we were young, why can't our daughter?" she pressed, making her eyes round and wide.

Valentine looked away, but his lips were curled up in a smile. "Alright, alright, while the rest of the family goes to the Conclave, they can go to the city circle and look around."

_**Alec**_

"I never thought I'd see Isabelle in a leotard," Alec said casually as Isabelle entered the studio in a black leotard with pink tights. She shot him a nasty look and he chuckled to himself. "This almost makes me want a picture of it."

"Emma, since Alec is in here with us, and you _are_ instructing him, perhaps he should be required to wear the uniform?"

Alec's mouth snapped shut. "Isabelle-"

"Men wear shorts, regardless," Emma said in her thick, accented voice. "To the barre with you, girl, and do your warm-up, I trust you know it by now."

Isabelle pouted. "You got lucky, Alec," she tossed over her shoulder and went to work at the barre.

Alec watched nervously as Emma approached him. Like Isabelle, he thought her small and delicate, but there was a steely glint in her eyes that forced him to remember that she _was _a shadowhunter, and probably a talented one, given that Malachi knew her. She stood before Alec, her gaze flicking over his body, assessing him; when they're eyes met, he stuttered.

"I-I don't know if you can help."

"Help?" she asked in a low voice. "I can give strength back to your limbs, life back to your movements, and precision back to your strikes, but I do not think your problems stem from physical weakness."

Alec gulped loudly. "The current ones do."

Surprisingly, Emma smiled. "Yes, yes, they do right now, but I think there is much more for you than finding your strength. It's as much about finding your courage."

"But you can help with, you know, the physical part?" Alec heard Isabelle snort into her hand and continue stretching and flexing her legs in time to the music.

"I have said I can," Emma said. "So, you will start with muscle strengthening. Join your sister at the barre, but you must focus on your legs only. Follow me while Isabelle works."

True to her word, Emma led Alec in a number of exercises that seemed to destroy his legs. Lifting them, holding them, kicking them, bending them and everything in between; by the end of the first hour, he found himself panting. Emma told him to breathe and stretch while she led Isabelle, but returned quickly, snapping her fingers.

"Again, everything from the last hour again," she ordered. "And do it without my lead."

Alec looked aghast. _It's not like I'm in practice,_ Alec thought angrily. _In case Isabelle forgot to mention, I've recently had my parabatai stripped from me!_ However, Emma didn't seem to care.

"You are hurt, but that doesn't mean you can stop," she said swiftly. "How would you recover yourself if you live like this? Now, do it again!"

Though Alec wanted to argue, he reminded himself that Emma didn't _have_ to do this. She was putting herself at great risk, helping a disgraced member of the Clave in the house of the Counsel, no less. If anything, he forced himself to recognize that he should have been grateful, and then pushed himself back to his feet to begin again.

It was a long hour, and by the end, Alec's legs were shaking; with a sigh, he's knees gave way and he collapsed to the floor. Emma stood before him. "You are tired? Good, it is a sign of a job well done." She favored him with a smile. "Sit and stretch and drink water; watch your sister dance." She offered him a large glass of water from a picture and he leaned against the wall.

Isabelle was watching her brother from across the room; when he looked up he met her eye. "Looking good, Alec," she called, and he smiled back.

"I'd say you too, but…" Alec smirked at the skirt she had tied around her waist. "You never were one for frilly things."

"You really think so-" The door to the room opened suddenly, and Isabelle felt her words dry in her throat. "Malachi," she said evenly.

"I thought you would be rehearsing by now," he said eyeing her outfit. Alec felt a rush of brotherly over-protectiveness hit him, and he wanted to hit Malachi for looking at his sister like that.

"She is about to begin," said Emma, stepping up. "You shouldn't be here. You need to wait until the routine is mastered."

Malachi raised one eyebrow but snatched a look at Alec. "I didn't think you'd make it down here, Alexander."

_Hoped I wouldn't, more like_, Alec thought angrily. "I'm back on my feet."

"Good to know," Malachi sniffed. "You need to go back to school anyway, though only the Angel knows where they'll place you."

"Alec is already trained!" Isabelle said rather sharply, eyes flashing. "He's more than capable of taking class with other shadowhunters his age."

"He is also sick," Malachi answered.

_I'm sick? _Alec thought bitterly. _I was in love; there's nothing wrong with that!_

Isabelle opened her mouth to argue but Emma made herself heard above the two and Alec found himself again impressed with her. "There will be no arguing in my studio! Malachi, you need to leave; Isabelle, I'm starting the music."

Malachi's nostrils flared, but he forced his face into toothy grin. "I was just hoping to see my ward perform, was all. I trust she is beautiful as always."

_Stay away from my sister,_ Alec growled.

"You will be the judge of that in a month when she is ready to perform for you," said Emma stiffly. "Until then, I would ask you not to disrupt us."

"Of course," Malachi said with a bow. "I trust your judgment."

As he left, Emma raised one eyebrow skeptically that reminded Alec of Jace. He chuckled and she glanced his way. "Yes, Alec?"

"Nothing…" he said, but just the slightest memory of Jace remained and for some reason, it left him feeling warmer than before. It left him feeling more whole.

_**Jace**_

"You're to stay within the city circle," said Valentine firmly, and Jace felt his mouth drop.

"You're letting us out of the house? With no one to watch us? Together?" Jace narrowed his eyes. "Why would you do that?"

"Because Jocelyn thinks you deserve it, though the Angel knows why…" Valentine sighed, looking distracted. "And so, you and Clarissa will have the few hours that we go to the Clave to relax and explore. Be grateful."

Jace glowered. "I'd don't suppose there's some malicious reason you're allowing this?"

Valentine grinned suddenly. "I knew I raised a smart boy. Actually, yes, there is a reason I'm going to trust you. Whether or not you believe it, I have spared the life of your pathetic Daylighter friend-"

"_Simon_?" Jace rasped.

"Yes, _that _one. Now, I trust that, though he was quite in love with my daughter, you still have feelings of comradeship with him? If you and my daughter get up to any…_mischief_, I will see to it that the Daylighter pays the price. And I will make you two watch."

_Simon's alive, Simon's alive somewhere in this city, _Jace thought frantically, considering all the places he could possibly have been. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing," Valentine said evenly, "yet. And I hope you won't make me change that. Now, do we have an understanding, Jace?"

Jace looked away. "Yes, I'll keep an eye on Clary for you."

"This is as much a reward for you as it is an excuse for me," said Valentine, smirking. "Enjoy yourselves, show my daughter a good time; Clarissa is quite taken with you."

"You really are a sick bastard," Jace said under his voice.

"I know," sighed Valentine. "She's certainly not as stunning as her mother, but, like I said, you may grow to like her over time-"

"Stop doing that!" Jace snapped, watching Valentine's smile widen. "Stop saying things about her; she's your daughter and all you do is make fun of her."

"I'm sympathizing with your situation," Valentine said matter-of-factly.

"No, you're not. You just like cutting her down is all." Jace made to leave but Valentine's hand snapped out and pulled him back. "Let go!"

"Not yet, young man," Valentine breathed in his ear. "I want you to understand, Jace, that I _must_ treat her this way. She's too willful, too stubborn, and too strong for her own good. I think, like you, she is willing to bear great pain, but, perhaps, unlike you, unable to stand such cruel words."

"You're making her miserable, and Jocelyn will notice," Jace hissed.

"Then it's your job to make her happy," Valentine replied curtly, and then glanced toward the door to the sitting room where Jocelyn was entering with Clary in tow.

Jace gave a pause, as he always did whenever he saw Clary nowadays. He knew how much she hated dresses, and he knew he preferred her in her usual jeans and loose shirts wear, but Clary did cut quite a beautiful image in the gowns Valentine had bought for her. Tonight, it was a simple, gold, A-line piece that fell to the usual length just below her knee. Jace's eyes rose from the hem line up to the waist where it was fitted to her narrow hips, and then up to the straight neckline and halter. It would have been perfect, but for the look of discomfort on her face.

_This isn't fair to her,_ Jace thought sadly, and tried to meet her eyes. He noticed, as well, that her make-up wasn't hiding the nasty black eye Valentine had given her. They had had to tell Jocelyn it had been a training accident, but Jace had seen the doubt in her eyes. _You deserve better than this, Clary. _

"You look lovely this evening," said Valentine, kissing Jocelyn.

Jace saw Clary flinch at the display and he came forward, looping her arm in his. "We're going out tonight."

"I heard," said Clary with a furious look at her father. "My mom came up to tell me to remember to thank _him_ for letting us go."

Jace pulled her in closer. "It's okay. It's out chance to have a look round and see if we can't find any old friends. Maybe Isabelle or Alec…"

Clary could hear the hope in his voice and didn't have the nerve to tell him how much she doubted it. Instead, Clary nestled up to his side and smiled dauntlessly. "It will be nice to leave the house, even for only a few hours."

Valentine and Jocelyn turned to face the pair just in time to see Jace lifted her chin up for a kiss. Clearing his throat loudly over Jocelyn's soft giggle, he said, "Excuse me, but I don't think you two are alone."

Clary pulled back a little at the sound of her father's voice, but Jace held his ground. "Just thought I'd make my intentions clear. Clary is, after all, my…girlfriend."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," began Valentine, but Jocelyn plucked his sleeve. "Ah, well, I certainly won't stop you two having your fun. Come, we will escort you to the city circle."

Jace made sure to put a small gap of space between himself and Clary, but held her in such a way that made clear to Valentine he was going to protect her. They left the house walking before Valentine and Jocelyn, and Jace could feel Clary's heart beat through the pounding blood; he used his thumb to rub the inside of her arm, calming her down marginally. It was a long walk, down the drive and down into the cobblestone street where a large fountain held court. All around them, there were shops with lovely displays and very large houses with beautiful, stretching lawns.

Valentine turned about to face them. "Be back here in three hours' time; we will collect you then." When Valentine turned to Jocelyn, she shot him a meaningful look and Valentine sighed, reaching into his pocket. "Here, take this and treat my daughter to the niceties of Idris," he added to Jace, handing him a few small bills.

Jace eyed the money in his had suspiciously. "Do I really need it?"

"It's only appropriate." Valentine turned on his heel and Jocelyn came to his side. For a moment, her eyes peeked over at Jace and Clary, and Jace knew she was completely responsible for all of this. He nodded his head to her.

As they left, Jace rolled back on his heels. "So, Clary, where do you want to go?"

Clary looked up and down the street, but saw only the shops and the road that twisted out of sight through them. "Is there anywhere you _want_ to go?"

Jace considered for a while and then nodded away from the fountain and the Gard. "There's a bakery down the road that has amazing apple tarts. Would you like one?"

Clary's mouth watered. "That sounds fantastic."

Jace smiled politely and bowed. "I'll lead the way." Jace set off, leading Clary along and trying to keep up the conversation. "It's a beautiful city, especially in early evening when the sun sets over the mountains."

Clary looked around her as Jace took them through the city. It was oddly empty, but the stores were still open, and when Jace pulled her aside, into a small, sweet-smelling shop, she forgot it all. "Look at this place," she breathed.

The walls were lined with shelves, all of them filled with cookies, cakes, donuts, and other sweets. She saw frosting in every color of the rainbow, sprinkles like a circus tent, and colored foil in pinks, greens, and blues. Behind a counter, a woman stood, watching them curiously and before her was a beautiful display of breakfast pastries.

"Hello," said the woman, smiling faintly at them. She took in the sight of Jace and Clary, her eyes resting a moment on her red hair, and her gaze darkened. "Just finished your studies, I suppose?"

Jace glanced around him. "Yes, and I thought we could both use a break from the stress. I've promised this lovely, young lady an apple tart."

"I don't get many of the young ones in here," she commented blandly as she wrapped an apple tart in wax paper and placed it in a bag. Again, her eyes moved to Clary, but she said nothing of it. "I suppose everything will get back to normal after a few more weeks. Things settling down, yes…"

Jace handed the woman a few bills. "Is there anywhere around here the two of us can eat? Somewhere quiet? Picturesque?"

The attendant behind the counter turned her mouth up into a pleasant smile. "Yes, just around the corner here is the canal, and a nice bridge that you can look out over the city on."

"Thank you," said Jace, taking the tart and then drawing Clary up close to his side. "Have a nice evening."

The women tipped her head carefully, but the smile was gone from her face. Clary saw her expression and frowned. "Thank you," she said a little loudly, but the woman didn't respond.

Jace opened the door and took Clary down the road. "She didn't seem too happy to see me," said Clary softly to Jace. "Do you think she knows who I am?"

Jace shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The worst she could do is not sell you something."

"Do you think Valentine was just making up the whole thing about protecting his family from angry shadowhunters, or do you think there was something to it?"

"I don't think any reasonable person would hurt you," said Jace, but he did glance about. "Everyone knows you were fighting against your father."

"But does it matter?" Clary drew closer to his side. "I'm stilling living with him, aren't I? I look like I'm benefiting from Valentine's rise to power."

"Don't worry about it," said Jace firmly. "If someone wants to hurt you, they'll have to go through me first."

Clary settled uncomfortably into step beside Jace, but she was worried. What if the shadowhunters really did dislike her? What if she actually was in danger because of her father? Jace didn't care, though, and he directed Clary to the bridge the woman mentioned and dusted a spot on it off so that the two could sit and look out on the river and the buildings turned red-gold by the sun.

"It is beautiful here," said Clary softly as Jace handed her a half of the tart. "I can see why you'd want to come here in the first place. Did you miss Idris much when you were living in New York?"

Jace frowned as a mess of memories assailed him. There were the good, the days he'd spent in the sun training, the stretch of stars above him as he'd look up at night, the quiet, peace that fell on the hills and valleys. Then there were the bad, the anger and the bitterness, the pain and loss. He sighed, staring down at his hands.

"Yes, I missed it here, but when I came back, I missed New York." Jace glanced over to her. "It's hard to feel so drawn to one place, but to have so many bad memories of it. But if you told me I'd have to go live in New York tomorrow, I wouldn't want to leave."

"I might," said Clary. "I miss it."

Jace smiled and then turned Clary's face so that she was looking at him. "Then, I suppose, I would have to go with you." With the sun touching her skin, Clary was glowing, and Jace found himself mesmerized by the sight. His heart skipped a beat and he leaned a little closer just as she did. "Clary, I think I lo-"

"Well, the baker was right," said a very sharp, sneering voice, "Valentine's daughter in the flesh."

Jace jerked back, his eyes flashing just as Clary gave a small gasp. There was a group of three teenagers, wearing training gear and bitter frowns. One of them, a tall girl with curly brown hair squinted at Clary and then gave a derisive snort.

"For the daughter of Valentine, she's not much to look at," the girl said. Her eyes glinted angrily in the sunlight and Clary noticed how weaponless she and Jace were. "I feel a little bad, but then, someone has to make a point to Valentine, don't they?"

"What do you want?" Jace said evenly, standing and positioning himself before Clary.

"We heard that Valentine's daughter was out and about," said one of the boys, eyeing Jace carefully. "We were just going to send a message, express our dislike of the current political campaign." His eyes flicked over Jace. "Who are you?"

"Jace Lightwood," he said carefully, and was satisfied that a fission went through the group.

"We heard you'd gone off to live with him…" said the other boy of the group. "Taking the princess out for a stroll, are you?"

"Screw off," said Jace, and he nodded to the other side of the bridge. "Come on, Clary."

Jace turned to go, but the girl scooped a stone off the ground and threw it. Jace jerked back and caught it before it hit either him or Clary, but the girl already found another. She looked a little discontented that Jace had caught the stone so deftly, but she arched back her arm for another throw.

"Go!" Jace hissed at Clary and pushed her.

"Jace, no," said Clary, clutching his arm. "I'm not leaving you with them."

Clary!" But another rock came pelting their way. Jace ducked but the girls aim was off and it bounced off the railing of the bridge. "Clary, just go-"

Jace's words were cut off as he looked to the other side of the bridge and saw a small group of four more teenagers, some of them carrying what might have been daggers. At his side, Clary swore. "Great."

Glancing from side to side, Jace saw they were truly cut off. He pulled Clary against him. "Do you know any hand-to-hand combat?"

Clary shrugged. "Valentine taught me a little."

Jace bit his lip. "Just stay behind me then, alright?"

_If push comes to shove, I guess we can always just jump off the bridge. By the Angel, I hope Clary can swim._


End file.
